


A Norn About His Gun

by traipsingexodus



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Character Study, Fantasy, Lost items
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24150712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traipsingexodus/pseuds/traipsingexodus
Summary: After a six month silence, the last member of a motley crew returns, and freshly reunited, together they land themselves a prize. Who are you, little rifle, forged in the coldest winters? Who are you, little rifle, sweltering in the jungle's sun? This ill-gotten gain sends Dunn, Romog, Zhaiah and Vanguard off on a quest to find its owner - off to see a norn about his gun.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

The rooftops of Soren Draa were home to cafes and public spaces for good reason. The view of the surrounding Metrica Province was charming, and asura bustled about, speaking at length about their current studies or ongoing experiments. Now and again, a somewhat amused-looking charr, sylvari, human or norn tagged alongside a group of asura, their presence made all the more notable by standing head and shoulders above even the tallest asura present.

Dunn dropped his eyes from the people milling about back to his reading, turning the page of his pulp novel and scanning it. He scoffed and put the book away into his lavish robes, shaking his head all the while. The pillar of metal nearby shot him a look of disdain, one that made it clear that breaking the relative silence on this rooftop seating area was worthy of punishment. He spared the pillar one look of dismissal and strode to the railing at the edge of the roof. The railing came up only to his waist, and with a sigh, the human turned around and looked skyward and then gave a start at the sound of an explosion.

The air filled with the smell of smoke, and a screaming asura fell onto the roof, spread-eagled. She coughed and got to her feet with obvious care, wiping soot from her face and dusting off her slightly singed clothing all the while. Ignoring the looks from concerned passersby, she adjusted her glasses and gave Dunn a radiant smile.

"Zhaiah, do you always need to make an entrance?" asked Dunn, looking amused. He wiped a bit of soot from her cheek and then lifted her ponytail gingerly and shook his head. "And do you always need to burn your hair?" He sniffed once for effect. "Smells even worse than burning human hair."

The asura squirmed away from him and pulled a filthy rag from her pocket to finish wiping her face, succeeding in staining her skin a shade darker in the process. "You worry too much. I do stuff that's way more dangerous than this all the time," she replied. With a cough that left a small haze of purple smoke in the air, she pulled her cracked glasses off and wiped them clean with the same rag. When this proved to have made her lenses more difficult to see through, she wiped the lenses on the hem of her coat. It was an improvement, but just barely.

"I know, I try not to think about it, if I'm being honest." He dug in his robes and pulled a small pouch free and tossed it to her. "Some more material for you. Hope this gets me something worthwhile, it'd be a shame to find out it's just going to waste."

"Oh it'll give you something worthwhile, alright," said Zhaiah, throwing him a sly smirk in the process.

The pillar of metal cleared her throat loudly and remarked, "Disgusting. Very unbecoming of you, Zhaiah."

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, Vanguard," whined Zhaiah, turning to look at the heavily armored sylvari.

Vanguard's cold glare softened for a barely perceptible period as the asura walked over and gave her midsection a quick hug, but her voice remained cold and clear. "Don't let this pervert fool you."

"You know what I love about you, Vanguard?" said Dunn loudly, turning to face the sylvari. "You go above and beyond. In all things. Armor, weapons, tactics, and when the Dream told you that you were to keep a stick up your ass for as long as you lived, you decided, 'Why settle on sticks, when I could shove the whole fucking Pale Tree up my ass?' And by the gods, you managed it."

Vanguard's eyes narrowed even as she patted Zhaiah's head once. "Lecher."

A low, breathy laugh filled the cold air between the human and the sylvari as a charr wearing darkened armor dropped from the branches of a nearby tree.

"Romog!" shouted Zhaiah gleefully. "You _did_ show up!"

"Wouldn't miss something like this. Vanguard always got under Dunn's skin in ways no one else really could," replied Romog.

"You sound awfully happy about that, Zhaiah," muttered Dunn while throwing Romog a piercing look.

The charr growled. "Not a nice way to greet old friends now, is it?"

"Save it. You can make your excuses once we're on site. Need something to do while I sharpen Clarissa anyway," said Dunn. "Speaking of, what's the job Zhaiah?"

"Inquest, what else?" she said with a shrug. "Only, uh, I can't actually help, I'm just here to hand you this and leave. I'm already late as is." She held up a small scroll wrapped with a piece of stained string.

"Late for what?" asked Dunn.

"Another presentation on the applications of fortunamancy."

"You still on that crap?" asked Romog.

"Did you expect her to just give up?" asked Dunn.

Romog shrugged. "I expected her to die, honestly. Was nice getting a letter proving me otherwise. Any luck?"

"Tons of it, but none of it has led anywhere. So yes, but no." Zhaiah tossed a small scroll at Dunn and then waved to the three. "Let me know how everything goes. I'll meet you guys back here."

"Is this even going to be worth our time? You're not very worried about us going off on some dangerous Inquest bashing." Dunn unfurled the scroll and read through the contract before tucking it away.

"Pay is pay, I guess," shrugged Zhaiah. "See you soon!" At this, she jumped off the roof, then with a shout, was propelled back into view as her jetpack sent her careening into the air and off into the distance.

Dunn brushed past Romog and gestured forward. "Let's get a move on then."

"Usually like to know where I'm being led," growled Romog.

"Into the Michoan Marsh. Job is to disable Biocauldron Alchemics," explained Dunn without stopping. Vanguard strode past him, now leading, her sword and shield drawn as she scanned about.

"Doubt someone is going to ambush us on the way to the marsh itself, Vanguard," said Romog. "This is Metrica, not the wilds." The sylvari turned to give him a single ugly look before returning to her vigil. "Good to see you haven't changed much." The charr sighed and shook his head. "Or you for that matter, Dunn."

"You'd be less surprised if you'd kept in contact with any of us," replied Dunn with a scoff.

"Had things that needed doing. Figured you'd understand better than anyone else." The tone in his voice, gruff as it was, betrayed the barest trace of disappointment.

"Can it. We'll talk more once we're there."

Romog shook his head again and drew his rifle, then began a watch to mirror Vanguard's.

* * *

The air in the marsh was thick, and the heat that hung over the stagnant water sweltering. Dunn wiped his perspiring brow and squirmed uncomfortably against the tree root he was using to prop himself up. Beside him, Romog reclined against the tree, supporting himself using the network of roots and the strength of his enormous calves. Though the charr appeared to be relaxing, Dunn could see from the visible tension in the cat's legs that this position was anything but. The trees that grew up out of the swamp rose high above them, their canopies intertwining and creating huge shaded sections of stagnant, stinking water punctuated with dramatic shafts of sunlight.

Romog peered through the scope of his rifle with a low, clicking growl. "You finally up for some conversation, princess? Or do humans have a mandatory minimum brooding time?"

"Fuck off," said Dunn, suppressing a smile. He shook his head and relented. "Alright, why the fuck didn't you talk to us for the last six months?"

"Was busy."

"I figured that much, dumbass. Or is this more classified Ash Legion nonsense?" replied Dunn, annoyed.

"Never were fond of my Legion, were you?" Romog spared Dunn a glance and a smirk before returning to his scope.

"Not really, no. Was a wonder I ever wound up fond of you."

"I just got back, that really the first thing you wanted to bring up?" asked Romog, exasperated.

Dunn suppressed a laugh. "No, but it got under your skin back then and it clearly still does now." He rolled over and pulled his greatsword from his back and a sharpening stone from one of the many pockets in his robes. "How's the warband?"

"Smoke?" The charr shrugged. "Fine, as always. Just not doing enough work, in my opinion."

"That doesn't sound like Smoke at all."

"I should clarify, they're not doing enough work that's far away, in my opinion." One of Romog's ears twitched and his entire body tensed, but a moment later he relaxed and turned his attention back to Dunn, who looked alert, his hands clenching the handle of his greatsword. "S'nothing, false alarm."

Dunn relaxed and nodded. "So this was your excuse to get-" He stopped. "Why are you trying to get away?"

Romog saw the expression on the human's face shift from curious to sly. The sounds of the gears turning in his head were almost audible. The charr became immediately interested in whatever was through his scope and shook his head. "Said too much."

"Nope! You've said just enough, and either you enjoy a never ending torrent of questions, or you spare yourself the indignity of me needling you to death."

"Burn me. Alright, fine, I'd rather not deal with a million annoyances. Found a mate."

Dunn's brow furrowed. "So?"

"So, I needed to get away."

"And you needed an excuse? Thought you could just skip out whenever. Hell, that's part of the appeal with charr."

Romog's grip on his rifle tightened. "It was… more serious than that."

"You skipped out on your _wife_?" said Dunn. "And came right back to rolling with this group of misfits, of all things?"

"Yeah." The charr's ears flattened against his head and continued to gaze through the scope with determination. "That's about the short of it."

"Does she know you're here with us? By the Six, does she know you're with _me_?" Dunn paused and furrowed his brow. "Actually, does she know anything at all about me? Or us for that matter?"

"Your people ask the most embarrassing questions. Do _you_ answer shit like this?" growled Romog.

"Yeah, it's kinda something that most people would want to know. Also, judging from that response, I'm guessing your wife _doesn't_ know you're back in the saddle with your three misfit friends, one of which you had a very wild few months with."

"When the two of you are done poorly concealing your lingering attraction, we have Inquest heads to remove from Inquest bodies," spat Vanguard. The sylvari reclined against the tree beside them and her eyes shot daggers at them in turn.

"Shove the Pale Tree a bit further up your ass, Vanguard. He's taken and I've got a different prize to chase down."

With a start, Romog looked down at Dunn. "You do? Who?"

"Zhaiah, duh."

"Do you make it a habit to fuck the people you call your bandmates?" asked Romog, half-annoyed, half-amused.

"Only the cute ones," said Dunn, shrugging.

Vanguard stopped reclining against the tree and strode over to the charr and human. With one hand for each, she pulled one off his roots and the other up from the ground and pointed them directly at the Inquest building in the distance.

Her voice was a cold whisper. "You're a disgrace to your people's honor, Romog. What little of it is left in that twisted, blackened eyesore of a capital. If you are unfaithful to your wife in my presence I will deliver her your head and condolences for her poor judgment." She released the charr, and then turned her head to speak directly into Dunn's ear. "You're a nameless race traitor and if you have your way, you will unsettle anyone that watches you kneel down to kiss that innocent engineer on the lips. Worse still, your quest to hide your profession from others has brought you no closer to looking more attractive in their eyes. Now do what you were taught to do, necromancer. Wrap yourself in death and boil the blood out of the Inquest."

She let the human go, who fell down on all fours and picked himself up out of the mud, swearing all the while. "I was doing my best to keep these robes clean, you overgrown salad," spat Dunn, flicking mud and debris from his legs and sleeves. "Let's get going, I guess." He drew his greatsword, and it began to glow with a dark green energy.

"Hop in," muttered Romog, raising his hand up and then clenching it into a fist. The barest whisper of rushing wind tickled their ears, and the three of them melted out of sight.

"How long do we have to wait for it to take, again?" asked Dunn.

"Until the weird tingling in your toes stops," grunted Romog.

"I'm wearing shoes, that's kind of hard to-"

"Now."

Tracks formed in the mud, water splashed and a large mosquito spun several times in the air as something rushed past it. As the three rematerialized by a tree much closer to the Inquest structure, Dunn flicked the flat side of his greatsword and mumbled, "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're back."

"You're only saying that because we might die," grumbled Romog. At the look Dunn gave him, the charr relented and added, "And yeah, I guess it's good to be back."

"Inquest krewe members are approaching, you damned fools," hissed Vanguard.

"Give me a minute, will you? I'm not an invisibility dispenser," said Romog.

"Just. Kill. Them. Now!" Vanguard roared the last word and dashed out from behind the tree and into the oncoming Inquest patrol.

Romog rolled out from behind the tree and took a knee, his rifle ready and drew a bead on the now surprised Inquest agents. With a crack, one of them snapped their head straight up and fell over. Dunn clambered over the back of the charr and used his broad shoulders as a platform to launch himself from. He spun once in midair for effect and landed, his body now a pitch-black, featureless hooded figure. He brought Clarissa to bear with a flourish, and as he did, the greatsword elongated and thinned and shifted into the form an enormous, cruel scythe bearing a blade of pure darkness.

Wordlessly, Dunn twirled through the oncoming pistol fire and swung his scythe low - too low. Three of the asura jumped over it, but the fourth noticed too late and fell into the shallow swamp water below, now legless. His scream was cut short by the sound of another crack, and with a snap of his head that mimicked the first Inquest agent that Romog put down, he fell over.

The black aura that engulfed Dunn roared and he continued his flourishing swings, kicking up mud and sending sprays of water out in lines at the agents. Several pistol shots and the loud crack of a distant rifle all met his ears, and the aura of darkness around his chest exploded into plumes. He staggered and twirled forward again, though this time, his scythe returned to the shape of a greatsword and the black energy that coated him faded. He brought his sword down and met the waiting blade of the nearest Inquest agent. The krewe member recoiled at the force of the blow, and Dunn followed up with a kick to the chest and a vicious swing that left the asura gagging and clutching at her throat.

He turned his head in time to see several pistols trained on him and raised his sword, but as their reports sounded in the air, a blur of metal charged into his vision. Several loud dings met his ears, and Vanguard brought her shield down into the face of one of the Inquest with a sickening crack. She swung wildly at the two remaining krewe members, who retreated in unison, firing at her all the while. The air came alive with more sounds of ringing metal, but a much softer one punctuated with a sound like a fist impacting a bundle of wet vegetation sent Vanguard recoiling, her shield arm instinctively coming up to grasp where the bullet had bit into her left shoulder.

The Inquest did not let up in their barrage, though the looks of rage and determination on their faces began to waver as the sylvari warrior stalked forward, their shots ricocheting and clanging off of her armor and shield. And then, Vanguard was upon them with a shriek of rage, her form blurring across the distance between them and sending one of the Inquest sailing through the air as Vanguard delivered a kick to their chest that launched them into the trunk of a nearby tree. She threw her sword point first down into the swampy water, and snatched up the remaining Inquest agent by his pistol-bearing arm. The weapon fell into the mud with a sad squelch and with a terrified scream, the agent pleaded, "N-no, please, l-let me go!"

Vanguard grabbed the agent around her midsection and suplexed her into the mud behind her, and in one motion, stood upright once more, pulled her sword free of the swampy water and drove it down into her back.

Dunn gave Vanguard a wide berth as he rushed past her towards the dazed Inquest agent, collapsed in a heap at the base of the tree he'd struck. Several loud cracks and the sounds of bullets whizzing past his ears told him he had to hurry. "Swamp's a really shitty place to die, if you ask me," he noted, driving his sword through the agent's chest and then pulling it free in one motion. Green and black energy swirled around the blade as he set it on his back once more and then rushed forward to catch up with Vanguard, who had run up to a tree that was within view of the entrance to the lab.

"Where is Romog?" asked Vanguard, her eyes wild.

A figure materialized before them. "Here. Someone's still taking potshots at us." He brought a massive paw to his face and traced a cut. "Not the best shot, though. You alright there, Vanguard?" The sound of leather stretching met their ears as the sylvari's grip on her sword tightened and her body tensed. "Whoa, whoa, hold on, let's-"

Vanguard roared up to the heavens and bolted out from behind the tree, rushing onward towards the Inquest structure in something more akin to bounding leaps than a flat-out sprint. The observation pane above the entrance to the facility flickered and rippled, and after another defiant flash and crack exploded into existence, it returned to its glassy sheen.

Dunn and Romog went after the sylvari, following her into the facility proper. Vanguard sprinted straight at a group of stunned Inquest, one still clutching a stack of documents, the other two hesitantly reaching for their weapons. A moment later, the two of them were flat on the ground, dazed, while the third was caught on Vanguard's shield, screaming and flailing. Accompanying the wet crunch of Vanguard driving the asura into the wall was the volley of shots Romog fired from his twin pistols into the dazed asura on the floor before him and Dunn.

Loud thumping footsteps met the ears of the tree as four large Inquest Mark I golems rushed into the room alongside three more asura. Two of the golems immediately took off towards Vanguard, who met their charge with a furious cry. The remaining two set their sights on Romog, one spinning towards him while the other fired off arcs of electricity. As it did, it began to repeatedly drone, "Intruders detected - engaging anti-personnel systems."

Dunn was left with the four Inquest agents, two of whom wasted no time in swarming him with their shields and axes. The third and fourth remained on the stairs, content to harass him with volleys of pistol fire. With a scowl, Dunn clenched his hand in front of his chest, surrounding himself with a dense cloud of poisonous green gas. The volley of bullets disintegrated as they came in contact with the haze, and Dunn took to the offensive, swinging Clarissa in a wide arc towards the nearest Inquest. Even through the haze it was clear the asura's skin had taken on a sickly green tinge, and he held his axe and shield at the ready with obvious difficulty, his breathing labored.

A loud clang and the shield fell from his grasp before Dunn used the momentum of a spinning slash to cut diagonally across the Inquest agent, who fell to the ground with a quiet gurgle. He turned in time to deflect the oncoming axe attack from the other Inquest agent near him and then with a wave of his hand, sent a dark pillar of greenish-black energy snaking along the ground towards the two agents on the stairs. Claws of dark snapped up out of the floor and dragged them screaming towards Dunn, who swung Clarissa through the air with a practiced flourish, his body shifting back to a pitch-black mass as his greatsword transformed once more into a scythe.

As this transpired, Romog fired his pistols in succession at the two golems now chasing him through the rather cramped room, slipping away into the space between light at every opportunity. He rolled into a dimly lit corner and then reappeared behind a golem, both pistols firing nonstop at the construct. The loud clangs of ricocheting rounds, punctuated now and again with deeper metallic crunches brought an ever-widening smirk to his face. He ducked beneath two arcs of electricity as they bounced along the ground and various consoles and metal furniture in the room, and faded away once more.

When he reappeared, it was to the sound of the crack of his rifle. With a groan, a golem fell over, its voice trailing away as it did: "Catastrophi-"

He rushed forward, bobbing away from a volley of punches from the remaining golem and giving it two swift kicks in the back. The construct stumbled forward several steps as Romog hopped backwards and out of existence once more.

"Gotcha."

The arm of the golem, crackling and sparking with an electrical charge, flew clean off as the charr materialized once more. "Warning - severe damage detected, repairs required." Two more cracks from his rifle knocked holes in a thin part of its armor and the golem shuddered and sparked before it fell over, rigid.

An insistent clanging sound met his ears, and he turned to find Vanguard atop one of the golems, her shield held in both her hands as she drove the point it formed at the bottom repeatedly into the golem's midsection. The lines of fury etched on her face pooled in her wide eyes, her pupils dilated. A scrape marred the length of her cheek, and nearby her plate helmet lay forgotten, leaving the long streams of leaves that comprised her hair dancing angrily as she beat her shield further and further into the golem's body. A few feet away, the golem's ally lay in pieces, her sword jutting from its chest and occasionally sparking with the last of the energy still in its body.

"Err- error. Err-rororororororor- Catastrophi- cata - cata - cata - cata - error - err…" sputtered the golem, its diagnostic systems failing with each strike.

"BY THE PALE TREE'S GRACE. _SHUT. UP._ " Vanguard finally succeeded in shoving her shield through the golem's chest, and the loud clang and stiff vibration that ran up its length confirmed she'd struck the ground on the other side. She slumped against the shield, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. As Romog and Dunn approached, she brushed her hair from her face and peered about, searching for something. At last, she pulled a long red ribbon from the ground and tied her hair back into a loose ponytail. She stood and retrieved her helmet and then turned to Dunn and Romog.

The silence from the warrior, punctuated with the sight of a shining, golden gash on one cheek and an enormous bruise on the other sounded almost like a dare to make a comment. When none came, she folded and tucked her hair away up into the helmet as she pulled it back on. She retrieved her weapons and then stomped past her two comrades and muttered, "We have a sniper to kill."

She took the stairs four at a time as Dunn and Romog brought up the rear, and turned wide around a corner as she raised her shield. This had to be the room that had acted as a platform for overwatch for the sniper to annoy her when they were still out fighting in the swamp. The loud dings and blunt force that struck her shield the second after she stormed into the room confirmed it.

When it became clear to the sole asura in the narrow room that the sylvari seemed to find the harassing fire anything but a deterrent, he dove aside right before impact and fired several shots into Vanguard's side. The sylvari swore and stumbled away from asura, clutching her side all the while, her teeth grit and her eyes burning with hate. The asuran sharpshooter clutched a rifle that appeared to be five sizes too large for him, but the manner in which he held it made it clear that it was effortless to wield. He threw her an evil grin as he aimed his next shot.

Two cracks rang out - one went wide and struck the glassy wall behind the asura, sending violent ripples out from the point of impact, while the other struck the sharpshooter in the shin and sent him down to his knees. He shouted in anger and swung his rifle around to fire at Romog, letting loose a barrage of shots that sent both the charr and Dunn diving away for cover in the form of the small metal ribs that lined the room.

"I can take him!" shouted Dunn, his reaper's shroud beginning to cover his body once more, but as he made to leave cover, Romog shouted him down, and the swirling dark receded.

"Don't fuckin' bother!" The charr sprung out from cover and rolled forward along the ground, vanishing as he did so. Several more shots bounced off the wall behind Dunn as well as the floor in the general area where Romog had disappeared. When the charr failed to reappear, the asura swore and rolled away from Vanguard, who had just caught her second wind.

The asura too disappeared, and then a shout of triumph met Dunn's and Vanguard's ears as Romog materialized once more, followed immediately by the asura who fired a shot at the charr. Romog dove into a backward roll, fading away as he did so and earning another loud swear from the asura as he too limped aside and vanished.

"What say we reduce the variables in this little experiment of ours, hm?" came a disembodied voice.

"No! You're fighting me you son of a bitch!" shouted Romog, unseen.

"Too bad!" The asura materialized feet first in the center of the room, and Dunn immediately made to cover himself in his shroud once more. But the sharpshooter was not facing his direction.

Vanguard's head snapped up and the sylvari fell back onto the floor with a heavy thud. Her helmet clanged to the ground immediately after.

"VANGUARD!" roared Romog. The charr materialized a half-second after the asura and fired a stream of shots at him. The Inquest agent's small body jerked and convulsed as bullets struck his legs, stomach, arms, neck and finally his forehead. The threat now a crumpled, bleeding heap, Romog rushed over to the fallen sylvari, Dunn following closely behind him.

He knelt down and carefully lifted the sylvari's head. "Vanguard! Vanguard, wake up!"

"Did… did that helmet stop the bullet?" asked Dunn.

"Her head's covered in blood, but I can't say I'm keen on trying to find an entry wound," replied Romog.

The necromancer strode over the sylvari's helmet and picked it up. A small ball was firmly embedded in the right temple. He flipped the helmet over and peered inside. The metal had given way partially, and sharp splinters of metal tipped in golden sylvari blood likely meant that the helmet helmet had cut Vanguard when it was shot off. "The helmet stopped the bullet." Dunn frowned and then added, "Not that it means much, she could still…" He bowed his head. "Well, you know."

Romog shook Vanguard gently. "Vanguard, get up, please. What the hell are we gonna tell Zhaiah if you're dead?"

* * *

The feeling of warm liquid around her dropped a stone into Vanguard's stomach. She was lost in the lake again. Her eyes tore open and she kicked her legs and flailed her arms desperately in a bid to reach the surface. When her head broke free of the strangely tense surface of the lake, she gasped and coughed, her mouth filled with the taste of metal. She paddled her way to the nearby shore, but found it was much further this time than ever before.

After what felt like a half-hours worth of swimming, her arms found the shore. Numb and still covered in the sticky wet liquid of the lake, she crawled up the shore and rolled onto her back and propped herself up. The land around her was tinted a dull ochre, and the lake before her was filled with blood. Above the surface of the macabre lake hung a starless sky, streaked infrequently with brilliantly green lightning.

The same anxiety from the last time she had this nightmare wound around her chest and squeezed, and she struggled to draw breath. With difficulty, she got to her feet and wrapped her hands around her body, shivering. She was naked, as always. As she peered about for any landmarks, her eyes caught a dull gleam and with trepidation, she approached. The wind began to howl in her ears as she drew closer to the source of the shine: her sword. Next to it lay her shield, rusted and broken in two.

The sylvari pulled her sword free from the soil and jumped as lightning crashed into the earth next to her, sending her scurrying away from the point of impact. The scorched earth crackled with green arcs of electricity, and figures began to rise out of the soil, their faces half-rotten and eyes burning with green flame.

"N-no," pleaded Vanguard, stepping back. Tears burned her eyes. "S-stay back. Stay back" She swung her sword wildly in their direction. "I'm warning you! Stay back!"

The figures continued to amble towards her, and then one broke into a sprint. Howls of rage and anguished moans of pain filled her ears as the rest followed, and Vanguard dropped her sword and ran, her eyes streaming and vision blurred as she sobbed and ran as fast her legs allowed. The moans and shrieks at her back drew only closer, however, and her body screamed in protest as she pressed on. She felt the cold, putrid breath of one of the pursuing creatures on the back of her neck and she screeched, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

* * *

Vanguard's eyes fluttered open and she groaned. Above her sat Romog, his face lined with worry that gave way immediately to relief when the sylvari stirred and awoke. She rubbed her eyes and looked down at her fingers for a moment before mumbling, "Either move aside or help me up."

Romog got to his feet and offered a paw to help the sylvari up. "Were it anyone else I'd say you should stay laying down after taking a hit like that to head but…" He paused and chuckled as she accepted his help and stood. "You wouldn't listen anyway, and I know you're built like an Iron Legion fort."

Dunn walked over and handed Romog the rifle the asura was using. "Got you a present. Any idea what it is?"

The charr took the weapon and hefted it. "Something a norn should be using, given its size. But the thing's light enough for a noodle-armed asura to wield one-handed." He chuckled with glee. "Found me a nice little replacement for the old Ash Legion standby. Just as well, you seen how pointy that thing is?"

"Thought you like guns that were a hazard to even draw."

"I like keeping my fingers where they belong. Bayonet's damn useless, range I use rifles." He raised the weapon up and aimed at the opposite wall and pulled gently on the trigger. "Decent pull. Feels pretty good. Definitely a custom piece."

"It belongs to a norn," said Vanguard. She took her helmet from Dunn wordlessly when he offered it to her and tucked it under her arm. "Those sigils make that much clear."

She was likely correct -the wooden furniture of the rifle bore intricate norn designs and sigils. At two different points - the grip and the thickest portion of the stock, a stylized depiction of a roaring snow leopard stared back at them. The foregrip was wrapped in what looked like the pelt of a snow leopard as well, adorned with several metal charms cast in the shape of runes and several raven feathers.

"It also could have _belonged_ to a norn," reasoned Romog. "After all, if this asura had his mitts on it he probably took it from the original owner." At the look Vanguard gave him, he sighed. "If we find the original owner we can give it back, alright? But for now, I think I've got me a new toy."

Vanguard continued to look at Romog with a frown, and when the charr raised an eyebrow, she shook her head. "My knowledge fails me. It isn't anything like any notable rifle I've ever seen or read about."

"Maybe Zhaiah can give identifying it a go. In the meantime, maybe we should get a move on. Don't want her to think we managed to get ourselves killed with a contract as easy as this one," said Dunn. He unfurled the scroll Zhaiah had given him earlier and scanned it then tucked it away. "Speaking of, start blasting consoles, Romog. Head downstairs and take care of the few we passed on our way in. Cop a chair or something in the meantime, Vanguard."

"I was shot in my helmet, not my head. I can deal with shoddy Inquest consoles well enough," spat the sylvari. For effect, she stomped over to a data console and bashed her shield into it, earning her a shower of sparks and a loud electrical sputter.

"Alright then… We'll handle the ones downstairs then, let Romog deal with these up here."

The warrior stomped past Dunn wordlessly and headed downstairs.

"I expected her to be angrier at us, being honest," said Romog when the sylvari's footsteps had faded. "Maybe she's got brain damage."

"Or maybe she knows it wasn't our fault she got friendly with a bullet," said Dunn.

Romog growled. "Wish I'd put that bastard down faster."

"Get some invisibility-vision goggles or something then. You did the best you could. I'm sure she knows that. Vanguard's a hardass but she's not unfair."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Still."

"You're just mad this guy's gun was bigger than yours. But look on the bright side: it's yours now."

"Dick jokes."

"Dick jokes."

Romog shook his head and turned away from Dunn without a word. The necromancer chuckled and followed Vanguard down the stairs.

* * *

The sunset view from the rooftops of Soren Draa cast a generally sleepy haze of orange across the four figures seated at a cafe table. Dunn sat next to Zhaiah, occasionally prodding her in the side and making her jump as Romog explained how their mission had gone.

The asuran engineer slapped the necromancer's hand and said half-amused, half-exasperated, "Stop poking me! You know I'm ticklish."

"Duh, that's the point," teased Dunn.

"If you're done embarrassing yourself, necromancer, Zhaiah has work to do," said Vanguard coldly. She seized the rifle that reclined against the table between her and Romog and slid it to the asura.

"Hey! Take it easy with that! I'm probably going to get to keep it!" said Romog, alarmed.

"Your precious toy is an ill-gotten gain stolen from a hapless norn. Whether you liberated it from that thieving rat in the marsh or not is of little consequence if you keep it," spat Vanguard.

"Kormir's grace, Vanguard, it's just a rifle. The norn it came from is probably dead anyway, we already discussed that," said Dunn.

"Well, either way, if you were hoping I recognized this gun… I don't." Zhaiah hung her head. "Sorry. It looks like it was completely custom-made."

"That's because it was. And I know where it came from. Sort of," said Romog.

"What? You were just as confused as we were back in that Inquest building. How do you know where it came from?" asked Dunn.

"I decided to poke through the consoles before destroying them and see what I could find. Had a hunch they might have made mention of it given how unusual it was. They did. It was just a short report, but it said that the rifle was part of a cache of ores and tools. The dredge had it, but the report doesn't mention why. Honestly, I don't think they cared why. The whole thing was written very uh…"

"Very Inquest, I would imagine. All their reports are like that," supplied Zhaiah.

"Yeah. But, that doesn't matter, what does matter is: the Dredge got a hold of it, and the Inquest traded them for it or something?." Romog scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "So we have a trail, I guess. Good thing too, since I'm pretty sure Vanguard won't let me hear the end of it if we don't follow the damn thing until it goes cold. Isn't that right, you grumpy salad?"

"This weapon is considered stolen until we have returned it to its owner or found them and their family deceased." The sylvari's eyes narrowed. "Remember that, charr."

Romog growled with displeasure. "You'd have hated fighting with the Ash Legion."

"Don't tell her that, Romog," said Dunn, shaking his head, "You'll end up naked and hand delivering your ah, 'ill-gotten' gains all over Tyria."

"If they got a hold of this from the Dredge, we're going to have our work cut out for us. They're not exactly the chatty type," said Zaiah. She propped her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands, ruffling her hair as she did. "The nearest major Dredge population is out in Gendarran Fields…" She shook her head. "I'll think about this tonight and see if I can piece together how this all happened. For now, we celebrate getting way more gold for this than we honestly probably deserve! Uh, eventually!"

She stood on her chair and raised her mug of ale into the air. "To complete contracts and new prospects!"

"And to old friends skipping out on their wives! At least your pelt'll fetch a nice sum, eh, Romog?" added Dunn.

"Fuck off," replied the charr, grinning.

To that, Vanguard added, a rare smirk on her face, "Hear hear!"


	2. Chapter 2

Zhaiah's head tilted forward and banged off the housing of the device in front of her. She frowned and rubbed her forehead with an annoyed whine. She yawned and took another sip of coffee before flipping the device over and stuffing her arm inside to fiddle about. The mess of semi-stabilized matrices, each mounted into a setting within, created a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across her skin. The interior of the device was shifting in ambient temperature from warm to cold to nearly unbearably hot to so cold that her fingers began to cramp. At last, her fingers found the primary setting seated deep within the device and expertly popped it free and removed it.

It was a small metal claw that held a glass sphere with a large hole cut in it. She reached over for the bag that Dunn had given her and pulled a small pulsing mote of light from it. It reacted to her touch, immediately beginning to seep into her skin and with a growl of irritation, she muttered, "No, no, not this time!" She tossed the mote of rainbow lights into the sphere and then capped the sphere using a thin, small sheet of teal metal. It flashed pink along the edges once and the sphere shook violently in her hand. There was a small flash of light and then the ball became still and began to radiate colored light in sequence.

Zhaiah observed the unpowered fortuna matrix with a gleam in her eyes, watching the lights shift in color. She pulled a pad of paper and a pen closer and began jotting down her observations before she sighed and shook her head, half-smiling.

Over her shoulder, a voice said in her ear, "So, have you had any luck with the uh, luck?"

A shiver ran down her spine as she jumped in her seat. "Dunn! You know I don't like it when you do that!" She turned to face the necromancer who threw her a sheepish grin in return. "And no, not yet, but we'll see if I don't after I get this set up. These things don't do much without power." She shook the setting she held in her hand gently for effect.

"The hell does that thing do anyway?"

"It acts kind of like a batter- well, no it…" She paused and frowned. "They're the medium the power source acts on." She traced the rigid lines of the icosahedral device with her fingers. "And in turn, they sort of _become_ the power source. I can mount this onto a turret or a weapon or something, and have the output applied to the payload of the device. In theory, that means that a lot of the variables that negatively impact the use of say, projectile weapons, can now be accounted for. Snipers like Romog try to take all the guesswork out of a shot, right?"

Dunn nodded.

"But their bullets are still impacted by things beyond the stuff they account for - you can know the wind will do something to your bullet, but you can't account for the randomness of the battlefield. Or even a regular field. What if a bird gets in the way? What if your gun doesn't fire when the second-long window you have to pull the trigger opens? What if… a lot of things, really." She spun once in her seat, her chin in her hand and came to a stop, facing Dunn. "Hopefully this fixes that. Lucky shots happen all the time, but you can't _predict_ them. This might make it so that _every_ shot is a lucky shot."

"Your device only affects the payload though, yeah? How does that help? You're not impacting the battlefield, just trying to make it inconsequential." asked Dunn.

"Well, yes, but you see, there are plenty of very unexpected things that this device could _theoretically_ do if it works! It could hyper-accelerate a bullet to lessen the effect of wind. Or it could wreath a mortar in a reactive acid that produces a corrosive cloud when the shell detonates so that it can punch through a metal roof or… I mean anything, really. It's luck! It's job is to do basically anything." Zhaiah spun back around and picked up her device and began sealing its various panels.

"Wanna give me a demonstration then?"

"Way ahead of you! Can you get me my rifle turret? It's over there between my bed and that e-store tank."

Dunn walked over the turret and hefted it. "This thing is way lighter than it looks. How does it not get tipped over during fights where the ground's shaking and stuff?" He stopped to peer at the storage tank and watched as electricity arced within, bouncing all along the glass enclosure.

"The tips of the legs are capped with magnetic metals that are charged by an on-board geomagnetic resonator and amplifier."

"In _bookah_ , please."

"Uh, the turret makes the ground magnetic and then makes the metal caps on its legs the opposite polarity so it sticks to the ground."

"Thank you." Dunn lugged the turret over to Zhaiah and set it down before the asura. "But why not just mount some screws to it to act as drills and drill it into the ground? It's what an acquaintance of mine did with his."

"And spend time screwing them in?"

"Well you could just have the turret's motor handle it."

"Too much time! Magnetic resonance can be done basically instantly! And it doesn't rely on the structural integrity of the soil. What if you tried to set your turret down on sand?"

Dunn shrugged. "Longer screws?"

"Anyway! Now that we've got this turret here, let's just go ahead and pop this onto the back…" She began drilling and screwing a small mounting plate onto the back-end of the turret and then finally set her device onto it and opened a small flap on one of the many faces of the device.

"What do you call this thing anyway?"

"Well, the full name is Semi-Stabilized Fortuna Matrix Array, Field Housing Unit, Direct Application Configuration, Iteration XXXVII."

"And what do normal people call it?"

"Uh, the Fortuna Matrix, I-37." She turned back to the matrix and pulled a small length of brilliant turquoise thread from a mounted spool behind the freshly opened flap and wound it around the ammunition box atop the device. She flipped open another panel and tapped several small projections in sequence and the device began to thrum audibly.

The pitch of the thrumming shifted from low, to high, to imperceptible and back again, and the lights emanating from the device began to glow with greater intensity.

"Alright, let's see if we can get some results!" She rushed to her work station and slid aside Romog's new rifle, freshly refinished, its snow leopard pelt wrapped foregrip a brilliant white speckled with deep black and bearing shining, freshly oiled raven's feathers to retrieve a set of thick metal targets and then ran back over to the opposite side of her room to set them up.

"Now we just have to see if this matrix will influence the turret's bullets to avoid this!" She ran to a drawer and pulled free several bottles of Elonian wine.

"Didn't take you for a drinker."

"Only a social one, but that's besides the point! These aren't the cheapest things in the world, and we're going to risk them to see if the turret won't try to avoid them."

"That's… what? Is that how this works? You're going to see if luck saves your bottles of wine?" asked Dunn, confused.

Zhaiah set the bottles onto a stand and moved it into the line of fire. "Yeah. So go ahead and point the turret at the bottles, but make sure the target on the wall behind it is also targeted."

"How do you target something with this thing?"

"Oh for- here, I'll do it." The asura hurried over and cranked several of the handles on the turret and aligned it with the target. She confirmed the bottles were in line of sight and the grabbed hold of a small lever at the base of where the ammunition box met the turret proper. "And one, two, three-"

She flicked the switch, the turret fired and the sound of glass shattering met their ears, followed immediately by several loud ricochets, a loud thump and a screech of pain.

Dunn and Zhaiah wheeled around and their eyes found a figure dressed in black crumpled on the floor, clutching its stomach, Romog's new rifle a few feet beside it.

"Ohh…" The figure shuddered as it let out a wet cough and then groaned in a deep, masculine voice, "By the gods, how did you see me?" Dunn went to crouch to remove the figure's mask but the man responded by immediately pulling a pistol free and firing at him.

"Fuck!" shouted Dunn. He clutched his upper arm, blood spilling out around his hand and threw himself behind a heavy workbench as more shots rang out, several impacting the bench and ricocheting off. Nearby, Zhaiah screamed and spun the turret, bullets whizzing past her and set the turret to fire again. The Fortuna Matrix glowed a bright crimson and the turret fired a bullet that flew through the air as if it were falling through honey. As it did so, it began to glow red-hot, the sphere distorting and turning into a current of slag as it came harmlessly down onto the ground, still glowing.

Zhaiah stared in disbelief at the spectacle and then snapped her head at the injured man, who fired at her again. She fell back as the bullet impacted her square in the chest and shouted in pain.

Dunn looked on in horror and let out a bellow of rage as Zhaiah fell, sprinting out from behind the workbench and lunging at the reclining man. He landed atop him and slugged him across the face with his uninjured arm, clenched the hand on his injured arm into a fist and drew in a sharp breath that cooled the room around him. Greenish energies coalesced into motes and flew from the would-be thief up into Dunn's fist and the man's coughs became punctuated with desperate gasps that shifted into terrified hyperventilation.

A shroud of death surrounded Dunn as the motes flew from the figure below him with increasing speed. With obvious difficulty the figure raised his pistol and fired directly at Dunn's head. The necromancer's head snapped up and then settled down on the terrified man once more. He seized the man's shoulders and opened his mouth, filling the room with a chorus of ghostly howls. The man shuddered and struggled for a time, his body ramping up into a feverish dance of painful convulsions, and then all at once he fell still.

The shroud vanished from Dunn and he got to his feet immediately to rush over to Zhaiah, who sat up with great difficulty as he did so. "Ughh…" she moaned, rubbing her chest. "That was awful."

"Zhaiah? You're okay?" asked Dunn, surprised.

"Might have cracked a rib but…" She unbuckled and unbuttoned her heavy leather duster and opened it wide, revealing a dented metal plate sporting a stuck bullet beneath. It was fastened around her midsection with a set of leather straps. With trembling fingers she unfastened the plate from her body and tossed it aside with a loud thud. She smiled up at Dunn and rubbed her hand across her naked chest with a weak laugh. "Good thing I don't have tits, huh? Would've popped 'em..." She grit her teeth immediately after and whined, "Ouch, ouch, laughing hurts."

Dunn picked the dented metal plate up and looked between it and Zhaiah's chest. He raised an eyebrow.

"It's rude to stare." She groaned and got to her feet, then buttoned her duster once more. "By the Alchemy that _really_ hurt."

"You sure you didn't crack a rib?" asked Dunn, concerned.

"Pretty sure." She pressed against her midsection in several places and winced, but little else. "Torso is going to be sore for a while, but no lasting damage to anything but maybe the pure image you had of me."

"I wouldn't say _pure_ …" said Dunn, throwing his gaze sideways.

Zhaiah kicked him in the shin and chuckled weakly. "Shut up _bookah_. Ouch, ouch, still hurts to laugh."

"So why the heavy plate?" asked Dunn. He hefted the makeshift armorpiece. "You strength training or something? Vanguard recommend this?" He rapped his knuckles against the metal and fiddled with one of the straps.

"Precautions for fortunamancy. Never know what'll happen." As she said this, Zhaiah strode over to the now dead would-be thief and began rifling through his pockets. "Aha! Found a slip of paper." She unfolded it and began to scan through it, and as she did, her eyes went wide. "Hey! This guy was supposed to meet some Inquest and get the rifle from them! It's got a meeting time and the price and everything!"

"Let me take a look through his pockets." Dunn strode over and crouched beside Zhaiah. "So how long has he been following us? Had to have caught sight of us storming the Inquest facility I guess, yeah?" Dunn pulled a leatherbound journal from an interior pocket and opened it.

His eyes scanned across several pages and then he turned to look at Zhaiah. "Found something big. What about you?"

"Just looks like the time, date and agreed upon sum for the rifle. Not much else." She frowned and folded the note before tucking it away.

"Don't worry about it." He shook the journal once for effect. "Got everything we need in here. Details of contacting an Inquest 'procurement' specialist. Mentions the weapon is decently famous among anyone that fancies themselves a deadeye."

"You'd think Romog would know about them."

"Romog isn't a deadeye. I mean, he's _got_ one, but he's not really an embodiment of everything people would associate with them. He's got too much Iron in him."

"Romog belongs to the Ash Legion. And they sound like exactly the kind of Legion that would not only like deadeyes, but foster their development and proliferation. Last I checked, Romog prefers long range engagements, tricks, traps and shadow arts to slapping a plate to his chest and using his rifle like a club."

"That's why they've got bayonets on their rifles." Dunn smirked and winked at Zhaiah.

The asura rolled her eyes but laughed nonetheless. "He _hates_ that bayonet. Anyway, why didn't he know about this thing?"

Dunn shook his head. "Because like I said, he's got too much Iron in him."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that reconnaissance duty, infiltration, and sentry duty were the things Romog tried to blow off as much as possible." Dunn began relieving the corpse between the two of them of its weapons and inspecting its armor as he continued, "Being a bit of a freelancer-"

"You mean lone, creepy necromancer?"

"Being a bit of a _freelancer_ , I stuck around with Romog a lot. Unofficially, of course, he wasn't supposed to be around anyone when he was doing his business but that warband of his... You know, Smoke really was a good name for them." Dunn shook his head. "All of 'em were kind of like Romog. And Romog always seemed to have an idea for a 'great spot' to go hang out at, or a neat little village to stop by…"

"Or some bush to jump behind."

The necromancer laughed earnestly. "Yeah, or that. But those days are long gone, and looking back, I don't regret 'em, but he sure as hell always seemed interested to go and do something right after he walked out a commanding officer's tent or got fresh orders from whatever source the Ash Legion felt like using that day.

"Ash was probably just a 'good enough' fit for Romog, and he just bullshit his superiors into thinking it was a perfect one. Or maybe they didn't care, and figured if your heart was half in it that was good enough. But he never really looked like he belonged. Not him, not the rest of Smoke. Maybe that's what his command liked about them. Put some ill-fitting men somewhere and you can get any enemy to start to underestimate you. Sounds like exactly the kind of game Ash would play."

Zhaiah seemed to chew on her tongue for a moment before she said, "Sounds like Romog was a perfect fit for Ash Legion then."

"Maybe according to command."

"So should I ask him next time we see him?"

Dunn frowned. "No."

* * *

Zhaiah's surveillance devices helped keep the investigation into the sudden death of one unidentifiable deadeye brief and smooth, though they hit a small snag in the form of a few distrusting glances when they claimed they had no idea as to why the perpetrator had decided to attempt to make off with their rifle. Nevertheless, the asuran peacekeeping authority sent the two off, informing them of further information they may receive concerning their case, but the expectation was that it was all but closed and they were in the clear for defending themselves.

As the two stepped back into Zhaiah's lab, the asuran yawned and stretched her arms out. Dunn yawned almost reflexively and said, "D-don't do that, you're gonna make me tired."

"That took way longer than it should have. Surveillance devices are supposed to help make this stuff go by faster…" said Zhaiah. She stood the rifle in a large cabinet and then closed and locked it and then set the small cube that acted as the key into the skeleton gauntlet on her left hand. "By the Alchemy, I'm beat." She pulled her duster off and tossed it aside, then did the same with her pants and crawled into her bed. She stuck her legs under the covers and pulled her hair-tie off, letting her black hair fall down to her shoulders from the ponytail it was in, then rolled onto her side, facing away from Dunn. She raised an arm into the air and snapped. The room fell into partial darkness, lit now only by the myriad of glowing devices peppered through the lab.

"Someone feels at home." said Dunn, awestruck by the display.

"This _is_ my home, you pervert. It was your job to be a gentleman and look away."

"Who gives up a free show?"

"Gentlemen do. You crawling in or not?"

Dunn gave a start. "Excuse me? And you accuse me of not being proper?"

"I'm not inviting you to sleep with me. I'm inviting you to _sleep._ It just so happens to be next to me."

The necromancer shook his head and began unbuttoning his coat. "Do I even fit?"

"Probably not." Zhaiah laughed. "On both counts, come to think, but don't get ahead of yourself."

Dunn did indeed not fit. His legs hung partially off of the bed and the pillow he laid his head on was far too small. "Good thing I left my pants on. I can feel half my legs sticking out from the bottom of the covers."

"Oooh, you are a gentleman!"

"Yeah, and you're sleeping next to one in just panties, you whore."

Zhaiah laughed and rolled over to hug one of his arms. "Sleep well."

"Before you go to sleep…"

"Hm?"

"This is very weird."

"You're not an asura."

"Is that why it's weird?"

"Probably. Dim up." A light shone between the two - the cube set into Zhaiah's gauntlet had begun to glow. "Not used to this kind of courtship?"

" _This_ is courtship?"

"It's courtship."

"You sleep with someone-"

Zhaiah interjected, "Literally."

"As part of courtship?" finished Dunn.

"Think about where you are."

"Your...bed? Next to your mostly naked body?"

"For the love of everything in the Eternal Alchemy! No, you _bookah._ I mean...yes, but no! You're in my lab! You could steal anything, sabotage something, destroy my reputation and research!" She pouted and shook her head. "You humans think of things in such simple ways." Her eyes softened and her pout changed to a smile. "Guess I can't get too mad at you for it though. You wouldn't know a lot of this."

"That is very true."

She giggled and kissed his cheek. "Does that make more sense to you?"

Dunn smiled. "Much."

"Night." She clutched his arm tighter and closed her eyes.

"Yeah. Night."

* * *

_Crunch._

Romog's left ears both twitched and he rose slowly from the bough that supported his back. He picked his rifle up off his chest and came to a sitting position, shouldering it all the while. He clenched his right paw once and vanished into the night. The source of the noise drew closer, and he rested a single digit on the trigger of his rifle.

It was Vanguard.

With a relieved sigh, Romog lowered his rifle and instead tossed one of the many pebbles he kept in a coat pocket at the armored sylvari, reappearing in the dim light of the stars as he did.

With inhuman precision, Vanguard snatched the pebble out of the air and glared up at Romog. "Down from the tree, cat."

"Gonna need more than just that to get a 'cat' out of a tree." He threw her a shit-eating grin and reclined against his bough once more. "But I'm nothing if not willing to chat with the quiet, bitchy sylvari when she comes around of her own volition." He turned his head to look at her. "So to what do I owe this thoroughly unexpected surprise?"

"You ran." Vanguard crossed her arms and said nothing more.

Romog chewed on this for a moment before he heaved a sigh and dropped from the tree. He trudged past Vanguard, gesturing for her to follow him, and the two came to a dead campfire and a single bedroll bearing a small knapsack. "Have a seat, I'll get the fire going in a moment." At this, Romog began to fiddle with the various pouches and strings that hung from the pack.

Vanguard watched him work and finally mumbled, "Have you forgotten where you left them?"

"You know me, Vanguard…"

"Not well.."

"Uh, well, either way, you know me Vanguard. Can't just let people take your things without issue."

"Odd, given you want to keep that rifle."

"You're missing the point." He tugged hard on a string and a loud mechanical click sounded in the cool night air. Romog pulled a book of matches from his backpack and tossed a lit match into the fire. It sprung to life almost immediately, and as he stoked it with one paw, he tossed the matches back into the pack with the other.

"Do you really need to keep an enterprising thief away from a box of matches and dried meat?" asked Vanguard.

"Don't take my shit." Romog stoked the fire again, and before Vanguard could offer a sharp rebuttal, he added, "Unless I'm dead."

The sylvari closed her mouth and frowned. When she spoke, her voice bore a softness so uncharacteristic that Romog managed only to catch himself just before he took hold of his pistol. "You ran. Dunn was...less than pleased about that."

"Didn't take you for someone that would care too much about how Dunn feels."

Vanguard's gaze hardened and her voice regained its cold edge. "And I didn't take you for a coward, even if you _were_ Ash."

"Am. Still am."

"No. You ran."

"I didn't run from Ash Legion," replied Romog. He let out a low growl. "But you know I damn well did run from something."

"And do you plan on making that a habit? You're here now, and Dunn is definitely pleased. Zhaiah, being rather pleased by anything that puts Dunn in a good mood, is similarly so." Vanguard's expression one shifted to a strange mixture of pity and smugness. "I hope you did not come back here looking for another chance."

Romog snarled. "You know, Vanguard, Dunn brings that up to bug me. But you're bringing that up to _bother_ me. And I don't like that." He looked away from the sylvari, out towards the few lights still shining in Soren Draa. The snarl fell away and he hung his head. "I'm not here for anything I left behind other than friends."

"But still, you ran."

"I made a…"

"Bad decision? Hasty one? Demonstrated your prodigious ability to be inept when it comes to the decisions you make concerning personal interactions?"

"That last one is probably right." The charr looked across the dancing flames between them, into Vanguard's eyes. "I don't want Arcavia out of my life. Or away from my side." He dropped his gaze into the fire proper. "But part of saying together means you have to turn your gaze homeward and work where you sleep, or near enough - all for the sake of being able to live together and make it work. And for a charr that's spent his life dedicated to the Ash Legion, that means I'll be given…" He laughed bitterly. "Paperwork. Not even the good kind that has you reading interesting reports and coordinating members. I skipped out on too many routine duties for anything but the most mundane, barely secret reports. Filing, censoring, forwarding, coding, decoding, burning…"

Romog dropped his head into his hands and chuckled. "Might just burn _myself_ if I get stuck doing that long enough."

"You lack dedication and focus. And you will reap what you sow for it." Despite the harsh words, Vanguard's eyes betrayed sympathy.

"I know, I know. So I took my chance and ran here. To…" He trailed off and flopped onto his back. "To do who knows what. Remember what it was like when things were simpler. Maybe find something to take not just me, but Arcavia away from a life of drudgery."

"I cannot imagine you were simply turned loose."

At this, Romog sat back up and smiled. "I went on leave just a few days ago. Depending on how much I want to get yelled at when I report back, I've got a nice chunk of time before I'm due back, so that's why I'm here. Arcavia hitched a ride with a sort of sightseeing expedition bound for Divinity's Reach from Lion's Arch. I'm, uh, supposed to meet her at Divinity's Reach actually. You know, so we can do…" His ears drooped and he looked away. "Couple...things."

"You say you wish to remain with your mate, but you don't seem so certain."

"I…" Romog sighed. "I love Arcavia. But she's just another complicating factor in a life I've worked very hard to try and keep simple." The charr stood up, and his posture betrayed a thorough sense of defeat as he walked towards the downward slope of the steep hill they sat upon. "I know it sounds awful to put it that way, but… it's the truth. She's a factor I'm certainly _grateful_ to have complicating my life, don't you ever think I'm not, but she is still a complicating factor."

Romog felt a gauntleted hand grasp his shoulder firmly. He turned to look at Vanguard, who said, "You are a remarkably selfish person." She paused and then added, sighing, "That appears to be fully aware of that fact and is acting in very strange ways to satisfy and squash that trait."

"So you think Dunn and Zhaiah will be okay with stopping by Divinity's Reach to pick up Arcavia and tell her there's been a slight change of plans?" His ears drooped again, and he gave Vanguard a sheepish grin. "Could really do with an out here. Arcavia is… feisty."

"I will not give you that out." said Vanguard coldly. She rolled her eyes and added, "Though I am certain that Dunn and Zhaiah will."

"C'mon, Vanguard, just say you'd give me that out too." pressed Romog, smiling earnestly.

They sylvari regarded him for a moment and then, with the barest of smiles, said, "No. What kind of friend would that make me?"


	3. Chapter 3

Something was pressed against Dunn's chest when the banging on the door to Zhaiah's lab woke him. He looked down, bleary-eyed and yawning and found the engineer asleep atop him. He smiled and poked the asura's nose, who promptly scrunched it and opened her enormous eyes. "What was tha- tha-" she began, but was cut off by a yawn.

"We have a guest. Guests? Not sure. But someone is pretty insistent on getting in," replied Dunn.

Zhaiah glanced around her room and then looked back at Dunn. "Well, nothing's broken, missing or destroyed, and no alarms have been tripped."

"Hoo...ray?" said Dunn, staring back, his brow furrowed.

Zhaiah bent forward and brushed her lips lightly against his then stared into his eyes. "I'd say so." She gave him a grin dancing with pointed teeth and then kissed him more forcefully. Before Dunn could react, she pulled away and sat up onto her legs to rub her eyes. "Shut up! I'll be at the door in a second, I've gotta make myself decent."

A muffled voice called back through the door, "Decent? Can asura even _be_ indecent?" It was Romog.

"I don't know, can you overgrown cats be indecent?" shouted Zhaiah back.

"I dunno Zhaiah, you're wearing panties, I think he's got a point," said Dunn, staring at the asura with a wide grin. Zhaiah stuck her tongue out at him and hopped off the bed to begin rummaging for her clothing. Dunn pulled himself out of bed as well and pulled his shirt and coat back on before heading to the door. He glanced back and saw Zhaiah pulling her duster on then opened the hatch to the lab, revealing Romog and Vanguard.

"C'mon in you two," said Dunn, giving Vanguard a nod. The sylvari gave him a stern look before crossing into Zhaiah's lab.

"What? I didn't do anything!" said the necromancer, looking taken aback.

"I'm sure you didn't…" replied the sylvari in a low tone, her eyes narrowed. She stepped past Dunn and was closely followed by Romog, who clapped his friend on the shoulder with a massive paw.

"When did you get in?" he asked.

"Last night," replied Dunn. "I slept here. Helped Zhaiah with her work and took out some trash that snuck in." He watched Vanguard kneel down to give Zhaiah a swift smile and a hug.

"Wait, someone snuck in?" asked Romog.

"Yeah, wanted to steal the rifle. According to the journal we pulled off his corpse, he was the intended owner. Supposedly, it's a famous piece among deadeyes. Got it through a transaction he set up with an Inquest agent." Dunn pulled the journal free from one of the many pockets on his coat and handed it to Romog.

"Were there any details as to where the agent got it from?" asked Vanguard, standing back up.

Dunn shook his head. "Nothin'. But we do know where the agent he contacted is."

"Please don't tell me we put him in the ground yesterday," replied Romog.

"Lucky for us, we didn't. He must've had a proxy waiting with it. Possibly even the sniper we encountered. Would make sense, right? Send someone that knows how to use the thing out to deliver it, just in case anyone gets any ideas on the way," explained Zhaiah, chiming in.

"That doesn't explain how it is that he found you two," noted Vanguard. "Any ideas as to that?"

"He probably caught sight of us leaving the facility and then just didn't engage," said Dunn. "Would make sense. He watched the three of us take out quite a few Inquest agents without _too_ much issue."

Romog let out a low growl. "Some sharpshooter he is. Wouldn't have been hard for him to take the three of us out if he had any skill."

"Well, he snuck in here completely invisible," explained Dunn. "Which would mean that he probably wasn't the type to get into a firefight if he didn't need to. Makes sense, if you think about it. He got into a bad fight with Zhaiah and I and now he's…" He trailed off. "What did they do with his body anyway?"

Zhaiah shrugged. "Incinerated it probably. After selling off his possessions, anyway."

"Good to see you're not above disrespecting the dead," said Dunn, smiling.

"What was that Mr. _Necromancer_?" shot back Zhaiah.

"Alright, alright, you made your point. At least I have some decency." At this, he pulled a black velvet bag from one the largest pockets on his coat, filling the room with the powerful stench of decay.

"Burn me, what is that _smell_?" said Romog, clutching his paws to his nose and gagging.

"I dunno yet, I change his name every time," said Dunn, shrugging. At the nauseated looks on Vanguard and Zhaiah's faces, he added, "Oh come _on_ guys, it's not that bad. You all act like you've never smelled death before."

"It took me a long time to get used to the faint scent you carry around with you, Dunn," said Zhaiah. Vanguard nodded in agreement.

The necromancer turned to his charr friend. "And you?"

"It's not nearly as bad when you're not wearing that coat, being honest. What do you even keep in that damn thing?" asked Romog.

"Everything I need, really," said Dunn. He rummaged about in one of his pockets and pulled out a skull, several small bones and a tiny ribcage. "Well if it bothers you all so much, you might not want to watch this."

"Oh no, Dunn, do you have to do this _here_?" whined Zhaiah.

"I can't do it out there! Someone always shouts or gets mad or faints." At this, he inverted the bag, sending its contents splattering onto the floor. A mass of flesh and intestines squelched to the ground and greedily sucked in the bones he tossed in after. He tossed a look at Zhaiah who had covered her mouth, looking nauseous. "You don't have to watch if you don't want to."

"No, but I should," she said in a squashed voice.

"Fair enough." He took a deep breath, chilling the room several degrees in the process and then knelt down and blew onto the heap of flesh, bones and organs. The pile of viscera began to shudder, prompting Dunn to take another deep breath and then exhale again, though this time he worked his hands in front of his mouth, pulling away from it in the same way one would pull rope from a spool. One, two, three pulls and then he raised his right hand and clenched it tightly into a fist. The pile rose up from the ground and formed, amid sounds of squelching flesh and crunching bone, into a blood fiend. "Done. You're all free to vomit as much as you please, I'm sure he'd appreciate the snack."

"That comment got me closer to tossing up breakfast than the actual process did," growled Romog. "What'd you summon it for anyway?"

"I summoned Dortmund because we have some walking to do. Need to get out to the Shiverpeak Mountains and look for an Inquest 'provisioner'. At least, that's where the journal says the contact was located anyway." Beside him, the blood fiend raised two of its dangling spine-tentacles and crossed them like one would cross their arms.

"Hold on," said Zhaiah. "Shiverpeak? Nothing more specific? The region is huge."

"There aren't that many major Inquest installations in Shiverpeak," said Dunn. His blood fiend nodded its body enthusiastically, sending splatters of blood out onto the floor.

"That doesn't matter! The Inquest have tons of splintered mini-krewes peppered anywhere they want in their greasy mitts. And we can't just walk up to the Inquest and ask if they've been in contact with a shady deadeye," said Zhaiah.

"Yeah, but we can narrow our search range down a bit, can't we?" He raised his hands and brought them closer together for emphasis. Dortmund copied his movements. "The Inquest got the rifle from Dredge. That means the Inquest have to be in close proximity to them. That helps narrow things down a bit, don't you think?"

"Only if that provisioner is assumed to be working with them directly. They could be a roving provisioner."

"I'm all for an adventure trying to track this guy down, being honest," said Romog. "Roughing it out in the mountains and running into Norn hermits that are gonna shout at us for trespassing on their hunting grounds or inviting us in for a bowl of elk stew sounds like my kind of wild goose chase."

"But…" said Dunn.

Romog's ears flattened and he let out an embarrassed snort. "But I have a request."

"I knew it. Alright, what is it?"

The charr's tail swished back and forth haphazardly before he finally said, "I need to make a stop in Divinity's Reach for a few days."

"What? Really? What in Grenth's name do you need from the capitol?" asked Dunn. His blood fiend accented the question with a questioning shrug.

"Mywifewillbethere," mumbled Romog.

"I've known you too long for that shit to work at this point. Why didn't you say so? It'll be great to meet her. Anyone opposed?" Dunn looked to Vanguard and Zhaiah.

"Prime opportunity to inform her that she's associating herself with a spineless excuse for a sniper," said Vanguard flatly.

"Be nice, Vanguard," said Zhaiah, pushing against the sylvari's hip ineffectually. "I don't have an issue with it. I'll just need to lock the lab up and send out a few memos. I'll take my matrix with me and see if I can get some field testing done."

"Then off we go to the seat of a failing empire!" said Dunn, gesturing at the door. Dortmund mimicked him, though with much more flamboyant movements.

"You mind telling me _why_ you summoned that thing, now?" asked Romog. "I don't see how it helps you walk."

" _He_ helps me by being the first thing people try to kill when they ambush us," said Dunn, jabbing a thumb at Dortmund for emphasis. The blood fiend nodded enthusiastically and then raised its spine-tentacles aloft and wiggled them about in a mocking manner.

"I don't think you need to try taunting people for that," said Romog, looking at the blood fiend.

* * *

The four stepped out of the asura gate into the Central Plaza of Divinity's Reach. The fine glass dome that encased the Upper City spanned out above them, casting the entire plaza in varying hues of light. Seraph guards assisting in directing new arrivals from the gate immediately stopped them with raised hands and approached them. The taller of the two, a severe looking man in his mid-40s with a short cropped beard and piercing silver eyes barked, "Welcome to Divinity's Reach. Per the Queen's Law, you must submit to an inspection of your person and belongings."

"Do we _have_ to?" grumbled Romog.

"Unless you wish to find yourself in breach of the law of the land, then yes, I would say that you _have_ to," said the shorter of the two guards. He was in his early twenties, and clearly overzealous and overconfident behind his thick plate.

The charr sniper let out a long and low growl. "I've got enough pistols hidden in my jacket to make this inspection a very, very tedious one. And I can't remember which ones I keep loaded."

"Is that a _threat,_ charr?" asked the young Seraph.

"No." Romog took several steps towards the young guard and brought his face within inches of his. "Just a reality."

A hand came to Romog's shoulder and Dunn hissed into his ears, "Now is not the time to put an overconfident blowhard in his place. Just submit to the inspection. It's not like we have contraband on us anyway." The necromancer's pleading tone made it clear that this was an encounter he'd rather avoid.

A long and clicking growl fell from Romog's mouth and he shrugged Dunn's hand away and stomped over to a nearby table for inspection. He set his rifles and holstered pistols down on it, and then began rummaging about in his coat. Pistols of every make and size came endlessly from its depths. Short, long and duck-footed. Sawn-off, stockless blunderbusses and haphazardly assembled zip-guns. And finally, a finely polished silver flintlock. Dunn's eyes widened.

"You kept that?" he asked the charr, handing the older Seraph guard his greatsword and coat for inspection.

Romog nodded without looking. "You have a good eye for pistols. Shame you'd rather dig your hands through graves." His grimace of anger fell for a moment to flash Dunn a smirk, though it persisted when he saw the younger Seraph picking up the pistols one by one to inspect them. The guard's face betrayed utter confusion, and even hints of worry. The charr had not bluffed.

The guard finally made it to the last pistol and raised his eyes, looking impressed. "This is _very_ finely made." He flipped it over in his hands and found a delicate script etched into the barrel. "Josephine?" He looked up at the charr. "That the name of-"

"It's the name of the gun. And if you're done with it, I'd like it back," snarled Romog, holding out a paw.

The guard stuffed the pistol roughly back into the cat's outstretched paw and jerked his thumb towards the plaza proper. "You're set. Don't cause trouble, the Seraph have their eyes on you."

"Ash says likewise…" muttered Romog under his breath.

"Excuse me?" said the Seraph, firing up at once.

"He said 'my ass says likewise,' didn't you hear?" explained Dunn. "And would you drop the tough guy act already? You're acting like Ascalon was yesterday." The necromancer took his coat and sword back from the older Seraph and shook his head at the younger one.

"Why you-" began the young guard.

"Shut _up_. Fix your eyes on what we've got left, maybe we'll actually stand a chance of fucking keeping it," said Dunn, waving his hand at the guard dismissively. He went to join Romog but stopped when he heard Zhaiah shout.

"It's a very delicate prototype matrix!" The engineer bounced up and down trying to take the device back from the guard, who held it with visible confusion in his hands. "And you're being very rough with it!"

"I'm just holding it!" he said back, looking exasperated. "And I have no idea what this is, I can't just let it through. What if it causes some kind of disturbance?"

"The only disturbance my Fortuna Matrix could cause would be from you handling it roughly! Thinning deldrimor steel out to the degree I did makes it very delicate! Between that and the glass fortune array, anything could break if you don't know how to handle it!" Zhaiah finally managed to jump up and grab hold of the matrix, pulling it roughly down towards her and sending the guard off balance.

The guard tugged back. "Then that means it must be looked over for stability! We can't just have-"

Dunn strode over and held his hand out towards the guard. "Please. Just let her have her device back. It's a major project for her, and it's inert right now anyway. It only does things when it's linked to devices, and I'm sure Zhaiah can promise you that she didn't bring this thing along to start linking it to furnaces or looms."

"What do you mean 'linked'? What does that entail?" asked the guard.

"Do you have damask threads laying around?" asked Zhaiah.

"Damask threads? What? By the gods, no. Do you know how expensive-"

"Then you have nothing to worry about."

The guard stared down at the asura hard, looking pensive and unsure. He opened his mouth, but as he did, looked up and caught sight of the quiet fury on Vanguard's face. It was clear the sylvari had tired of the exchange.

"This is a farce. Have you delayed us long enough?" she spat.

The guard let go of the device and turned towards the new arrivals that had just come in from the gate and hurried away, beckoning for his subordinate to follow.

Dunn watched the two hurry away, awestruck. "By Grenth, why didn't you just intimidate them sooner, Vanguard?"

The sylvari stomped past the necromancer without answering, opting instead to call back, "We've wasted enough time. Let us see this coward's wife and continue with our mission."

As the Romog, Dunn and Zhaiah hurried to catch up with the warrior, Dunn said, "So, uh, was that whole scene necessary?"

"Yes! You humans like touching things too much to be trusted with tech when it's still in prototype form!" replied Zhaiah. "He could have knocked something loose or turned his armor into jelly or something."

"That sounds pretty funny though. The jelly thing I mean."

"Yeah but he could have also turned it into magma!"

Romog shook his head. "Why the blazes do you keep that thing with you then?"

The three began to filter through the crowd that had formed at the mouth that let out of the plaza and onto the upper promenade and emerged on the other side looking about, trying to find Vanguard. A sharp and telltale whistle had the three of them snap their heads towards the source of the noise, and found the sylvari standing beside a stand selling fruits. She clutched a peeled orange in one hand and a wedge of it in the other. She did not look pleased.

Zhaiah gave her a sheepish sort of wave and then walked back to Romog and Dunn, her chest puffed out proudly. " _I'm_ not going to turn stuff on me into magma." She pointed at the matrix resting in the sling on her back. "I know exactly how to handle this thing, because _I_ made it."

"So you meant to make your pants start smoking?" asked Dunn, his brow furrowed and a smile on his face. "You on fire?"

"What?" She glanced down at her leather pants and screamed. "Wait, ouch! Ow! I'm on fire? What happened!?" She began to furiously pat down random patches of flame that sprouted from her pants, and after several furious seconds, stopped and let out a sigh of relief.

At the looks on Dunn and Romog's faces, she pouted. "Look, I didn't turn my pants into magma, and that's what matters."

"True, but it would have been nice seeing you have to deal with walking around in your skivvies for a bit," said Dunn.

"You're an asura, I'm sure people would have figured you just let a bomb go off in your pants or something," added Romog.

Zhaiah settled for making an obscene gesture at the two of them and rushed to catch up with Vanguard and bombard her with apologies. When Dunn and Romog caught up to them, the sylvari finished her orange and said, "Where are we headed?"

"Uh, that's a good question. I'm not sure. I told her I'd meet her here, but I didn't give a place," explained Romog. He looked around at their surroundings. "Where are we?"

"Dwayna High Road," said Dunn. He pointed to the immense statue of Dwayna towering over them a few meters away. "Same as it ever was." His eyes flicked from building to building, each of them traditionally styled and stacked atop each other, and then down the long sloping path that led to the lower parts of Divinity's Reach. The crowds that bustled past looked to be largely common folk, an eclectic mix of the help for noble homes ferrying goods, purchases or children, artisans and their assistants, and small bands of adventurers. "Never was one for the Reach."

"Why not?" asked Zhaiah. Dunn considered the asura for a moment then shook his head. He knelt down and kissed her forehead and then stood up again. She stared up at him. "Wh-what?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter, in the end. What comes will. Everyone else thinks that way, I just admit it."

"Well, if you're done being cryptic, I think I have an idea," said Romog. He gestured down the road, towards the lower section of Divinity's Reach. "If we head to Promenade, we might be able to find Arcavia."

"What makes you think that?" asked Zhaiah.

"She's- well, she's enthusiastic about shopping," said Romog, his ears flattening.

"So are you, what's the problem?" asked Dunn. "You love looking for guns and small daggers."

"Arc likes to shop for… _clothes._ "

"I get the feeling that _you_ don't," noted Dunn. He reached out and put a finger through one of the many holes in Romog's coat.

"I wear shit until it doesn't get the job done anymore or falls off my back. Then I buy whatever looks closest to it and wear it until it falls off me. Rinse and repeat. Ash giving us coats - especially the ones that were reinforced with chain mail between the leather layers - was the best thing my warband ever lost the privilege to."

"How did you manage that?" asked Zhaiah.

"Decided to try and pull a fast one on our provisioner and stock up on a couple extra. As punishment they cut us off entirely and told us we'd have to make requests and deliver them to a supply station ourselves."

"Isn't that how things normally work?"

"Ash puts a good bit of trust in you to do the right thing. When you don't, they drown you in triplicate."

"Charr bureaucracy sounds like an oxymoron. But I guess if any Legion was going to do it…"

"Now you're getting it. Now come on, let's see if we can find some…" Romog sighed. "Clothes stands."

Dunn clenched his right hand into a tight fist. There was a loud squelching sound and then Dortmund flew out of the necromancer's largest coat pocket and hovered beside him. At the look of mild disgust from not only his friends, but several onlookers, Dunn said defensively, "What? Would you rather I go through the entire ritual again? Be glad I packed him up for travel. Right Dort?" The blood fiend nodded enthusiastically, spraying the ground with flecks of blood.

* * *

Picking through the throngs of people crowding out the promenade was less trouble than any of the group had anticipated. Between Romog's wide stature and Vanguard's aura of pure dread, the crowd parted around the four with ease. Dortmund likely also helped, as evidenced by the terrified stares frozen onlookers offered the blood fiend as it hovered around Dunn, splitting off temporarily to fondle the odd bauble or trinket for sale from stands all around them.

"Do they _all_ do that?" asked Zhaiah, watching the blood fiend weigh two apples with its spine-tentacles. "It's kinda cute but I'm having a hard time getting past the whole, you know, made of a rib cage and organs thing."

"Blood fiends have pretty unpredictable personalities if you let them. I'm not really a domineering kind of guy, so whatever I rustle up tends to get to act however it wants to. Dortmund's just a curious guy." He chuckled as the fiend waved an apple at Dunn and pointed at it insistently and then tossed a few copper coins at it. With rigid precision, the blood fiend caught the coins and then dropped them on the stand before rushing back over to Dunn.

"And they eat?" asked Zhaiah, looking at the apple it clutched.

"No, I was hungry." Dunn took the fruit from his minion and bit into it with a loud snap and crunch. "He'sh tied to my eshence, sho he knew I wash getting a bit peckish." He swallowed and patted the blood fiend fondly. "Thanks, Dort."

The four continued to move through the crowd, though as they grew closer to the concentration of shops selling clothing, armor and weapons, their progress slowed. The clamor of haggling kicked up in their ears as people - mostly human, but sprinkled here and there with other races - all sifted through merchandise.

Dunn's eyes caught sight of an out of place stall decorated from floor to placard with norn symbols and runes. It overflowed with norn-made clothing and armor, and his eyes found an asura-sized outfit made of a collection of oiled feathers, support straps and a floor length skirt. "Hey, Zhaiah, that might look pretty good on you." He pointed it out and gave her a knowing grin.

The asura rolled her eyes and shoved his hip. "Do you know how easily the wind would blow those feathers around?"

"What does that matter, there's nothin' underneath."

"I don't have volume, but I've still got apparatus."

"Then use some tape."

"Shut up, _bookah_." She stuck her tongue out at him and giggled.

"That'll be her, if the two of you are done flirting," said Romog over the din of the crowd, pointing straight ahead through the gaps in the throngs of people. "And she's-" He sighed. "That's Arc alright."

A charr with ruddy brown fur was carefully sifting through bolts of fine, patterned silks on offer from a stall with a distinctly Elonian bent. She set the bolt of cloth in her hand down and raised her head, her ears twitching, then turned to face the four. Arcavia's mode of dress was best described as that of an Elonian whore, and a human one at that. Thin and delicate silks criss-crossed her shoulders and chest and skipped past her stomach before reconvening around her waist to act as a belt for her light cloth pants. She caught sight of Romog approaching and smiled broadly, waving vigorously at him and calling out. The crowd between them kept her in place, however.

"Your wife is dressed…" began Dunn.

"Like a whore." Vanguard's face remained impassive.

"That doesn't sound like judgment, which is all the more impressive," noted Zhaiah, looking up at the sylvari.

"Facts are not judgment."

"She's got a thing for cultural fashion. Likes to pick up outfits and souvenirs everywhere she goes," explained Romog. "But look at her forearms. You'll notice something."

Dunn focused his eyes on the charr's forearms and was taken aback. "Why the hell is she wearing those gauntlets?" he asked, looking alarmed. "Are those from the _Iron Legion_?"

"Won them in a bet," shrugged Romog.

" _How_?" asked Dunn.

"Ask her yourself."

"And risk getting punched?"

"Funny enough, punching was involved. Anyway, Arcavia's feisty, but she's no Vanguard," explained Romog. The sylvari threw Romog a dirty look before facing forward again, earning a chuckle from the charr.

The four successfully cut through the crowd and found themselves face to face with Arcavia, who rushed forward and pulled Romog into a tight hug. "Romog! I was wondering if I was going to have to track you down, and I wasn't feeling up to causing an incident in the human capitol of all places."

The three non-charr all shuddered. Dunn threw a look to Vanguard, his mouth agape and silently mouthed, "You too?"

The Ash Legion sniper looked away in embarrassment. "Come on now, Arc, I told you I'd meet you here, only that I might have been a bit late. Anyway, these are my friends. Compatriots. Pains in my ass."

"But not your warband?" asked Dunn, putting on a mock frown. "That stings Romog."

"Can it, human," he shot back, suppressing a grin.

"Nature be with you all." Arcavia inclined her head. "Except maybe you." She pointed at Dortmund. The blood fiend crossed his arms and turned away, seemingly pouting. "Romog has told me… basically nothing at all about any of you. I think he might have mentioned you-" She pointed at Vanguard. "Maybe once and it was honestly the truth."

"Explain," said Vanguard, her eyes narrowing.

"You're _very_ rigid," said Arcavia, smiling. "Loosen up a bit, it's good for you. Did wonders for him," she continued, pointing a clawed digit at Romog, "especially given how unbelievably awkward he was when we first met."

"Romog? Awkward? That's a first," interjected Dunn.

"Yeah, he's pretty relaxed around us. Most stuff just kinda trickles off him," added Zhaiah.

"Well he got to be that way _eventually_ , but before that it was nothing but awkward questions and a whole lot of doubt." She thumped her partner on the shoulder and laughed.

"It wasn't for no reason, you aren't exactly _typical_ ," said Romog. Upon seeing the looks on his friend's faces, he added, "She's Olmakhan. Just wandered a bit away from home."

"A bit?" asked Zhaiah. "What kind of an understatement is that?"

"Why didn't you mention she was Olmakhan?" asked Dunn.

"Didn't see the point behind it, honestly," replied Romog.

"You don't see the point behind doing damn near _anything_ ," said Dunn. "You could have mentioned this little detail."

"What for? Doesn't really change much, does it?"

Dunn crossed his arms and chewed his tongue. "I guess not. But it's still nice to know who your friends are involved with."

"You're the only one here that really likes to kiss and tell, Dunn," said Romog. Dortmund floated over beside the charr and crossed his arms, nodding in agreement.

Zhaiah nodded. "Yup. He's got you there." Vanguard spared the necromancer one distasteful glance in agreement with the engineer.

"This is different!" insisted Dunn. "And you!" he added, looking at Dortmund, "You traitor! You're supposed to be on my side!" The blood fiend shrugged.

"I mean, barely," said Romog. "Look, in the end, the jury says it doesn't matter. And with that squared away, I'm here now Arc." He turned back to his partner. "What now? We have places to be after this, as do you."

"Wait, really?" asked Dunn.

"Yes. I've joined a caravan of sorts that's bouncing around different parts of Tyria. I got into Divinity's Reach a day or so ago after spending some time in Lion's Arch. The port has some magnificent views. Once you get away from all the buildings they've erected to try and occlude them."

"I dunno, I thought there were lots of places to get a good view of things," said Romog, shrugging.

"To see the waters sparkle beneath the rays of the sun? To watch the horizon stretch out until it blends into the sky itself?" said Arcavia, raising an eyebrow. "Or do you mean there were plenty of places for you to lie down and crack skulls at three hundred paces?"

Romog snorted. "Fair."

"I spotted a very nice plaza to your god, Melandru," said Arcavia, looking at Dunn. "I think that would be an excellent place to relax for a bit and get to know one another. I could do with hearing about how much of an oaf my husband is around people other than me."

"We'll be lucky if we find a nice patch of grass under a tree to sit. That place is popular," said Dunn. His blood fiend nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure we'll find something," said Arcavia, smiling. "Between two charr and a sylvari that's more brewing sandstorm than gentle flower, I'd say we'll have luck."

"I can switch the Matrix on and see if that helps," added Zhaiah, gesturing to the device on her back.

"I'd rather not have to deal with Seraph asking us why we blew up the Plaza of Melandru," said Dunn. "Even if we have an asura with us, I don't think any explanation would fly."

"You're no fun."

"We'll have plenty of opportunity to kill ourselves testing that thing when we're out in the field proper."

"Gonna hold you to that one." She winked.

* * *

Arcavia was not wrong. She gestured to the shaded patch of grass beneath the drooping branches of a tree. "There we are," she said, looking smug. "Blessed by nature once more."

"I mean, I guess nature is why you're a very imposing, very pointy cat, yeah?" said Zhaiah. The Olmakhan flashed the asura a very sharp grin and then motioned for Romog to sit. The sniper had barely sat down when she dropped herself immediately to the ground and laid her head in his lap.

Romog made an indistinct noise that sounded a bit like a defeated growl. "Why am I not surprised? Should have expected it really."

"I can bite your leg if you'd like to object," said Arcavia, rolling onto her back to face him. She reached out and cupped his face with a massive paw for a moment and then flicked his nose and mumbled something very, very low.

Romog averted his gaze and mumbled something back just as low.

Dunn chuckled and dumped himself against the tree that provided them all with shade to watch the spectacle, then grunted when he felt Zhaiah drop herself directly onto his lap. She pulled the Matrix off her back and set it down beside them, then spun to lay flat against his chest and reclined her head against his sternum. "Did you have to drop down that hard?" wheezed Dunn.

"That's for being a _bookah_."

"What did I even do?" he asked, looking down at the crown of her head.

"You suggested I get that raven feather thing," she said, looking up at thim.

"I mean-"

"I'd have my midsection totally exposed to shrapnel! Is that a good idea to you?"

"I mean, you're not supposed to wear it in the _field_."

Zhaiah reached up and intertwined her fingers behind his neck and shook her head. "Ask again on the return trip then."

"Better than a flat no," reasoned Dunn. Beside him, his blood fiend nodded enthusiastically, waving its tentacles in glee.

"Don't get your hopes up," she replied. She glanced at the minion beside them and added, "Or you either."

Vanguard sat apart from the two couples, legs crossed, sword sticking straight out the dirt beside her. Her chin rested in the divot formed at the top of her shield, its pointed bottom spiked into the dirt, and her gaze moved smoothly from one couple to the other and then back again. Dunn caught sight of the sylvari and jumped when he saw her smirk.

"You've got a bad idea or someone's replaced you, Vanguard," said Dunn.

Vanguard looked at the necromancer and gave him a small smile. "You disgust me." She stopped resting on her shield and sat up straight, then unstrapped her gauntlets and set them down between her crossed legs. Then, she pulled her helmet off and set it down on the pommel of her sword and reached up to tug the brilliant red ribbon that kept her leafy hair tied up into a bun free. It fell, long and loose, around her face and down the back of her neck.

She wound the ribbon around her hand and down her forearm, eventually tucking one of the loose ends under the long spiral of red that now snaked around her arm, and then pulled the satchel that hung at her side up and rummaged about inside it. She produced a flute in several pieces and assembled it, then pulled cloth from the same satchel and polished the instrument to a mirror shine before stowing the scrap and bringing her lips to the embouchure hole. Vanguard closed her eyes. In less than a minute, the warrior had shifted from appearing a wall of impenetrable, irritable steel to the first lily to burst from thawing ground.

The tune that followed was a low, haunting melody. A slow, gentle rhythm of long and drawn out notes filled the air and several nearby picnickers looked around to find the source of the sound. The high and mournful notes began to pitch lower and increase in tempo, and then Vanguard shifted into a completely different song altogether. The staccato of low notes resembled a battle march, steady and true in rhythm.

One of Romog's feet twitched automatically to the beat of the song and Arcavia laughed.

Vanguard changed the song again, pivoting on a note from the march into a piece that furrowed everyone's brows. The curious onlookers went from looking worried to confused to enthralled. Among them, a sylvari looked on with an expression of wonder, and said aloud, "Ere A Nightmare And Her Fall." Vanguard opened her eyes for a moment to look for the sylvari, found her and nodded, then closed her eyes again.

The song continued, its pace slowly ramping as the song neared its crescendo, and then, right as it did, it slid softly down into low, faint notes. Lower and lower, until all that hung in the air were echoes of the final bar. Vanguard put her flute down and opened her eyes and found a small crowd had stopped to watch. She cleared her throat pointedly and brushed hair away from her face, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Several onlookers clapped, and when they did, she hurriedly disassembled her flute and put it away before tying her hair back up and putting her helmet back on. A few of those watching looked on, dejected, as it became clear that the show was over, and the crowd thinned and eventually disappeared. The sylvari that had identified the song was last to leave, inclining her head before she did and saying, "Thank you for bringing a piece of the Grove here, if only for a moment." She hurried away.

Dunn looked at Vanguard and said, "Why didn't you ever tell us you played the flute, Vanguard? That's a weird thing to keep secret."

"I knew she played the flute," said Zhaiah, looking up at him. "I thought you did too."

"News to me," said Romog, also looking at the sylvari. "You've got a knack for marches, or I've had my will broken without my knowledge." Arcavia laughed and mumbled something indistinct, to which Romog replied with a grin, "Can it."

"I do not make it a habit to share trivial information," said the warrior coolly. "I practice in private, as good musicians should. I would not visit the din of missed or wrong notes upon any unwilling ear." She looked pointedly at Dunn.

"I don't play instruments!" he said, looking incredulous.

"No, but look at you now." Her eyes flicked between Zhaiah and Dunn.

"She started it!" he shot back, pointing at the asura sitting in his lap.

"That's a really shitty argument, Dunn," said Zhaiah, suppressing a laugh. "But he's got a point, Vanguard." The sylvari gave her a severe stare, earning her a sigh from Zhaiah. The asura got to her feet and added, "Come on, let's go find you a more bullet resistant helmet." She picked up her matrix and stuck it onto her back.

"Hey! I was actually enjoying this!" said Dunn raising his hands. "What gives?"

Zhaiah rolled her eyes and held her finger up towards Vanguard to ask her for a moment. The sylvari turned and looked towards the bustle of the promenade and replied with a grunt.

"Then you should be glad it won't be the last time, right?" said Zhaiah, barely inclining her head to look down at Dunn.

"Fine, fine. Go untwist that salad's panties I guess," he said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Not the expression I'd use."

"You know what I meant."

Zhaiah cupped his face in her hands and gently brushed her lips against his. "See you soon," she said softly. She let go and went to meet up with Vanguard.

As the engineer and warrior disappeared into the crowd in the Promenade, Dunn turned his attention to Arcavia and Romog. "Well, with the fifth wheel taking off with the fourth, now I'm the third." Dortmund tapped the top of his head insistently. "Dortmund, you don't count, you're an extension of me." The blood fiend sagged in defeat. "Don't give me that look you overgrown meatbag. You know we're like this." He crossed his fingers. The blood fiend perked up again and spun once in place. "That's the spirit."

"Romog has told me very little about you, Dunn," said Arcavia, rolling onto her stomach to get a better look at the necromancer.

"Not much to say, really. Just another necromancer wandering Tyria looking for unwanted remains and fortune, usually in the same place," he replied.

The charr frowned. "That's not right."

"They're dead, it's not like-"

"No, I mean, that you don't have much to say. Every life carries a story with it. Some are dull, yes, but being dull does not mean that there is nothing to say, only that what there is to say is unremarkable."

Dunn stared at Arcavia for a moment and then glanced at Romog. His friend merely shrugged. "I'm just cutting out the bullshit, really. I wander around, usually taking whatever job Zhaiah rustled up for Vanguard, Romog and I. That takes me across enough of Tyria that I get to see places, poke around in things, and reap some rewards." He looked up at the city that surrounded them. "And that's that, really."

"Where were you born?" asked Arcavia.

Dunn sighed. "Uh, in Queensdale. Claypool Township."

"Do your parents still live there?"

"They did. They're gone now. Gone, gone. Not moved."

"May their rest go undisturbed." Arcavia sat up into a cross-legged position. "From what house do you hail? That is what you humans use, yes?"

"House?" said Dunn, looking at Arcavia. His face betrayed a hint of remorse. "I don't have a house."

"Really? I figured you belonged to House Dunn," said Romog, perking up.

"No. There is no House Dunn. Dunn's just my name."

"Your...first name? Or surname?" asked Romog. "I've- I've never once asked you this. Hah! In all this time, after all the shit we've seen, I've never actually bothered to ask." The sniper began to laugh. "Imagine. You've known me as Romog Smokeshot for a couple years now, and the whole time you were just 'Dunn'. Or a pain in my ass."

"I like it that way," mumbled Dunn.

"What, really?" asked Romog, looking confused. "That's a bit-"

Dunn stood up. "I'll be back. I've been thinking of replacing dear old Clarissa, and I have to see if I can trade her in for enough credit to not burn up everything I've got in my wallet. Where do I meet you two tonight?"

The two charr looked alarmed, and Arcavia said hesitantly, "An inn, in the Western Commons. I believe it was named the Walnut Crosier."

"I'll be back in time for dinner. Don't start without me," he added, managing a grin. "Let's go, Dortmund." He beckoned for the blood fiend to follow, and it did so, though it too appeared dejected.

As the necromancer walked away, Arcavia shook her head, a low and indistinct noise thrumming in her throat. "I didn't expect that."

"Dunn's never acted like that," said Romog, his tone carrying a hint of concern.

"Never?"

"Nope. Never. Everyone gets pissy or irritated, but Dunn wasn't one to be sullen. Not for every long anyway. That didn't look like a passing feeling."

"Do you think-"

"That we should go after him?"

"Yes."

Romog shook his head. "No. If Dunn responds to a question like that, there's no point in trying to get him to fess up. He'll do it on his own or not at all."

"Not at all? What kind of a friend would that make him?" asked Arcavia, sounding offended.

"Dunn's a good guy. I'm sure he has his reasons for going by a single name and nothing else. If I need to know, I'll know. If I don't, then it's something personal that he has no reason sharing." The sniper shrugged. "Simple as that, really."

"You have no interest in finding out what caused him to react to a simple question so strongly?" asked Arcavia, her mouth agape. "He's your friend."

Romog sighed. "Arc, Dunn was a _mate_ at one point, and I never bothered even then."

"What? Wait. _Him?_ You said there were others but-"

"This isn't going to become a fight is it?" asked Romog, his ears flattening.

The Olmakhan crossed her arms and shook her head, looking stern. "Romog, you _owe_ that man your insistence at uncovering what it is that bothers him. I would expect you to do the same for me."

"You're my _wife_ ," said Romog, exasperated. "I owe _you_ that, not him."

"Did some calamity drive a gulf between you? Did someone burn a bridge?" asked Arcavia hotly.

"No, but- ugh, I mean, yeah, I guess I didn't help things when I just kinda skipped out a while after it was all over. But things seem like they've gone back to how it was before everything. All of it."

"Romog, I want your word that you'll figure out what is bothering your friend. You're Ash Legion. Resort to tricks and espionage if you have to; at the very least when you come out the other end, you'll be able to say you did it with his best interests in mind. And that you did it because that is what _friends_ do. Especially friends that are also your warband."

"They're not my warband," grunted Romog.

"They are as good as it. I've had a few words with your _actual_ warband about you, Smokeshot."

"Those traitorous overgrown cubs. I'm going to burn every-"

Arcavia stood up and held her paw out. "Up," she commanded. Romog looked up at his wife, confused. "Up!" she repeated.

Romog stood up and shrugged in lame sort of way. "What?"

She grabbed his shoulders and pressed her nose against his. "We have a city to see. I expected a day of gleefully shoving cloth beneath your nose and asking your _incredibly_ informed opinion on it, which would likely come in the form of the same sound sand on a morning beach makes."

"Sand doesn't-"

"But now, we have something meaningful to speak about. And we shall. At length. Over fine cloth." She held her arms out and glanced down at her body. "Speaking of-"

"You're dressed like a whore. Vanguard's words, not mine."

"You just happen to agree."

"I mean-" began Romog. He trailed off and grinned in spite of himself. "Can we stop at the inn before we head off to look at more blasted clothes?"

"So you _do_ like my outfit."

"I hate it. It's why I'm in a hurry to get it off you."


	4. Chapter 4

"It's about that time, Romog."

The room was dark. Shafts of light that cracked through shutters and curtains criss-crossed dramatically in the still, humid air. The din of the outside world felt pleasantly remote in this bubble. The sniper growled and shook his head. "Does it have to be?"

Arcavia sat up and looked down at her husband. "Yes." Her form lacked proper definition in the dim light, the ruddy brown of her fur blending into the warm wood of the walls and ceiling. She bent over and brushed her nose against his and then stood up and stretched. Muscles flexed, shifted, bulged and relaxed all along her back. Romog caught himself in the middle of an indulgent smile and sat up in bed.

The room was, by all accounts, a mess. The fine linen on the bed was a ball of twisted, tangled sheets, bunched up against the headboard. Pillows had found themselves halfway across the space, sitting out on the floor or atop dressers. A desk that had tipped forward sat near one of the shuttered windows. He'd blame close-minded human woodworking, but even the most forward thinking of human carpenters wouldn't have bothered to assume that two very large, very animated charr would use a desk for support. At least it hadn't broken.

Arcavia wrenched the curtains apart, filling the room with strong mid-afternoon light. Romog winced and squinted. The sun was damn near hanging outside their window. His wife turned around and held her arms out. "Well? That help wake you up?" Her body cut a sharp, finely toned outline in the blinding light.

"No, but you naked in front of a window did," mumbled Romog, still reclining in bed.

His wife crossed her arms and snorted. "Stuff it, you'll have all night. Get dressed." At this, she collected the delicate silks and straps that made up her outfit.

"Oh for the love of- Arc, can you wear something…more fitting?" asked Romog in exasperation.

"This _is_ fitting. I think it shows off-"

"I mean fitting for a charr," said Romog, his eyes pleading.

Arcavia laughed and shook her head, her tail dancing behind her. "Prude." She opened one of the drawers on the dresser and removed a set of leathers and light cloths. "Is this better?"

"I see leather, so probably," replied her husband, standing up and rubbing his neck. "So, sure."

It was _technically_ better. At the very least, reasoned Romog, looking at his still largely exposed wife, she didn't look like a _human_ whore anymore. "Why do you do this?" he asked, watching Arcavia tug and adjust at the leather straps that criss-crossed her chest.

"Because the weather allows it and because it bothers you. Now let's go find _more_ stuff that'll do the same," she said in a smug tone. She threw open the door to their room and stepped outside, beckoning for him to follow.

As the two neared the bottom of the stairs, the sounds of the tavern that sat beneath the rooms grew louder in their ears. There was little in the way of rowdy singing, but given the hour, Romog was not surprised. Instead, it sounded like the conversations of several dozen strangers all overlapping. As he and Arcavia entered the tavern, he noticed the conversation nearest them had stopped. Two human men, a charr male and two sylvari females sat at a circular table, and all of them had their eyes trained on the two.

Romog's brow furrowed and he looked to the charr seated with them. "Something on my face?" he asked.

"There was, probably," he replied. He chuckled and jabbed a clawed finger straight up at the ceiling.

"By the Khan-Ur, I told you to keep it down," said Romog, looking at Arcavia.

His wife shrugged. "It's an inn. If you wanted the undisturbed peace of the shore, you should have stayed home." She looked down at the charr and then at the rest of the table. "Don't go repeating what I shouted, I think it's half a spell in the right context. I tend to forget." Romog stared at her, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief.

But the charr seated at the table laughed harder and turned back to his tablemates.

Arcavia beckoned Romog out of the inn and out into the bustle of the Western Commons, and the two set off towards the Promenade. As they walked, the crowd parting around them more than they had to part the crowd, Arcavia said, "So what exactly is it that you're doing with your warband?"

"Smoke?" asked Romog, raising an eyebrow. "Noth-"

"No, you idiot," she said punching him in the shoulder and chuckling. "This one. This hodgepodge you've found yourself in. Soil, cinder, scrap. And ash." Her eyes focused on the Ash Legion symbol on the metal plating on the back of Romog's glove. "You've picked some odd company."

"Cinder?" said Romog, raising an eyebrow. "Odd choice for Dunn."

Arcavia gestured towards the wall that ringed the entirety of Divinity's Reach. "Is it?"

The sniper made an indistinct noise and shrugged. "They're good friends. Care a lot about me. Probably more than I care about them." Arcavia looked shocked and opened her mouth but he cut across her. "Don't take that the wrong way. I mean more that I underestimated just how much they _would_ care. I skipped out a while back. When I showed up again, Dunn wasn't too happy. Zhaiah was forgiving and Vanguard was…"

"As inviting as thick bramble could ever be, I imagine."

"That's just how she is. She does care. Really. She just has a horrible way of showing it." He rolled his shoulders and let out a sharp breath through his nose, looking uncomfortable. "So do you. Some of those scratches are deep."

Arcavia pitched her head up and let out a single, booming laugh. "You whine more than hungry cubs, Romog. And you were singing a very different tune back in the inn." Their arrival at the shops saved the sniper the trouble of trying to figure out a rebuttal, and instead allowed him to sink into the boredom that came with following his wife around and grunting apathetically at the garb she raised before him and begged his opinion of.

* * *

Dunn had only gently lied. He had no real intention of actually replacing Clarissa, but instead was hoping to dig through the stock the Reach's higher-end artificers had for sale. As the necromancer leafed through a catalog of the various enchantments available to him, the attending artificer looked on with the barest level of professional interest.

"What specifically is it you're looking for, sir?" they asked after several silent minutes.

"I was hoping for something to make me less reliant on this guy sucking the blood out of things," replied Dunn, gesturing at Dortmund.

"Blood."

"Yeah, he's a blood fiend."

"No, I mean, an enchantment of blood. That's what you're looking for." The artificer eyed the sword on his back and added, "I hope you're always swinging for vitals."

"I mean, I do my best? She's a giant sword, I can't imagine Clarissa is too picky about where she finds purchase."

"Blood enchantments function off vital blows. Nicks and cuts don't mean much, the enchantment feeds off the surge of life that only running someone through or severing arteries produces."

"What if I just want to kill shit?" asked Dunn, closing the catalog. "I'm a good hand at swinging her around but I can't guarantee that-"

"Then you should be looking to enchant what you're wearing, not what you're wielding." The artificer stood up and rolled her neck, then beckoned for Dunn to follow her into the rear of her shop. The two passed through a curtain that divided the front and back, and the necromancer found himself in a somewhat cramped room bearing a stool and lined with shelves and containing an artificing table. Shimmering components in vials of differing sizes were stacked haphazardly on the table, and in the center sat a small pile of throbbing purple orbs.

"Is it a good idea to just leave your-"

"They're not going to go anywhere, what does it matter?" asked the artificer, now rummaging through the many boxes that sat on the shelves. "Sit. This may take some time. I have an assistant whose job it is to sort these boxes but their sorting system is positively absurd."

Dunn did as he was told, and watched the woman rummage for whatever it was she was looking for. Several times she would stop and swear before finally locating the box containing whatever it was she was looking for. As she stomped over to Dunn, she grumbled, "Melandru's sweet fucking grace, I'm going to hang that asura from a clothes hook when she comes in tomorrow."

"An asura is your assistant?" asked Dunn. The woman nodded, now picking runes, brightly colored threads and needles of different sizes from the box. "And she organized the boxes?" The woman nodded again. "Then she probably organized them according to the magical symbols that comprise the base of the enchantment."

The woman stopped and stared at Dunn. "What? That's-" She stopped and shook her head. "Absolute lunacy. Why would you group based on _symbols_? That's insanity. You don't organize off _components_ , you organize based on _products_. Alphabetical organization, and each letter is sub-organized from weakest to strongest effect."

"It's just how they think. Enchantment names are just an agreed upon commonality, aren't they?" asked Dunn. The woman nodded. "Then it makes sense from their perspective, wouldn't it? Organize based on the actual magic, not the colloquialism. The former is a constant, the latter might change if someone starts a good enough marketing campaign."

The artificer shook her head. "Were you raised by asura?"

"No, I've just spent too much time around one. She likes to talk my ear off about these kinds of things from time to time. It's been a while since the last conversation we've had about 'woefully simplistic human organizational techniques' but me acknowledging that means I'm in for a very engaging conversation about why humans should be organizing ores by melting points." He chuckled. "So anyway, this enchantment?"

"A set of runes designed to leech life as souls enter Grenth's embrace. Provide me with your robes and the rest of your armor and I'll take care of the enchantment," explained the artificer.

"Uh, sure." He rose and stripped down to nothing but a set of boxers and socks.

"No undershirt? Thin shorts? Nothing? Just - just this?" asked the artificer, suppressing a laugh as she looked him up and down.

"Look, I like to know if I've been hit. More cloth just gets in the way." Dunn crossed his arms. Dortmund mimicked him.

"I shall return shortly." She stepped back out into the front of the shop, leaving him alone in the back.

As he sat on the stool it occurred to him why he was left back here with all her stock. "Where am I gonna hide it, right?" he asked aloud, looking at Dortmund. The blood fiend gave an enthusiastic nod. "But I did leave my coin purse with her. Can you go make sure she's not helping herself?" The blood fiend floated through the divider to the front of the store, and a second later, he heard the artificer shout in surprise.

"By Balthazar, could you at least shout that your abomination is going to come watch me work?" she called from the front.

"He's not an abomination! Dortmund's a good lad, he's just there to watch."

"He doesn't have eyes!" she shouted back.

"He's got plenty of eyes! They're just all… insect eyes, I think? Look, he's doing his best, just let him float there, he's not gonna do anything but stare, and I promise you he's not the kind of minion that does bad shit with stares."

After fifteen minutes, the fiend and artificer both walked back into the rear room. "The work is done. Get dressed and we can go over payment." She handed him his clothing back and then went back to the front of the store.

"Anything shifty, Dort?" asked Dunn as he pulled his pants on. The blood fiend shook its entire body left and right. "She's a nice lady. Hope we've got the change to pay for this. I didn't bother to check. We should be fine, right?" Dortmund simply shrugged.

As Dunn returned to the front of the store, he pulled his coin pouch free and opened it to dig about inside. "So how much for the service?" he asked.

"Single gold."

Dunn suppressed a grimace. That was expensive for what amounted to a magically augmented patch job. He dumped his coin pouch into a neat pile on the table her wooden register sat on and began to pick through it. He pulled a gold piece free and then frowned. "Sorry, that's not it."

It was thinner than the common coins that now spanned across Tyria. Clearly cast by hand, thinned by hand, and etched by hand. Its irregular edges and faded symbols gave it an air of being ancient. Or poorly made. Possibly both.

The woman stared at it and then held her hand out. "It's not payment, of course, but if I could perhaps just _see_ that? While you search for your funds, I mean."

Dunn felt uneasy handing the woman the coin but nodded nevertheless. "Yeah. Mind, I want that back. It's… important."

The woman pulled a loupe from a drawer and examined the coin with professional interest. "Of course." She rolled it over in her fingers several times and focused on the etching on one side. "Do you know what this is, by any chance?"

Dunn shook his head as he began to count out his silvers, stacking them into piles of ten. "No. I've been meaning to get it to someone that knows coins but I just never have the time." This was a lie, but it hardly mattered. The woman didn't need to know he'd simply put it off out of spite and fear. "Why, you an expert on old coins?"

"No, just a hobbyist. But this is most certainly a doubloon."

Dunn launched a silver off the table as he gave a start and swore. "A doubloon, huh?" He fished about on the floor for the coin and then set it down on the table. "There's your gold, by the way." He pushed the pile of coins towards the woman. "I forgot I had Zhaiah hold onto all my actual gold. Was down to just pocket change."

The woman returned the coin to Dunn with an air of mild reluctance. "Yes. A gold doubloon. Difficult to say who cast it, but that's the case for all doubloons, in the end. You'd be better off seeing if someone can trace latent magic out of it."

"That's a thing you can do?" asked Dunn, stowing the doubloon in a breast pocket instead of his coin pouch.

"Yes. Doubloons can leech trace magical energy over time from where they've been stored, provided they've been stored in that location long enough. It's why they're useful in artificing and related disciplines. They take well to being transmuted into other things."

"This thing has been on me for almost a decade. Any magic that would have been stored on it-"

"A decade is a blink for that coin. _If_ it has latent energy in it, it was absorbed over the course of over a century, and possibly longer - and was stored in a very powerfully magical place. It would take as long, maybe longer, to leach it out. I can't trace the energy, if there is any. But I know of someone who can. Head to Marshwatch Haven, out on the Bloodtide Coast. There'll be a merchant there by the name of Horatio Aesmon. He can help you trace the magic in that thing. If there _is_ any. Expect there not to be. Most of these doubloons come from pirates who've been trading them or melting them down and recasting them, which disperses the magic to the point of nonexistence. But it's a worthwhile endeavor if you ask me. Helps put the thought to rest, at least."

Dunn frowned. "What if it _does_ have latent energy? What then?"

"Well, I can't say. Where did you get the doubloon from?" she asked.

The necromancer shook his head. "No one important." He managed a smile. "Thanks for the service. And the tip. Have a good day." The artificer gave him a small wave and then turned to head into the back room, likely to begin the arduous process of reorganizing her shelves.

He paused right at the threshold to her shop and called back, "Wait, uh. How do these runes work?"

The woman shouted, "Just kill things, necromancer. You're good at that, right?"

Dunn smiled in spite of himself.

* * *

Zhaiah held her pistol aloft and frowned, looking incredibly uneasy. "Vanguard, this sounds like a terrible way to test helmets. What if I kill you?"

The sylvari crossed her arms and gave the asura a severe look, though it was almost completely invisible behind the full face covering of the helmet she wore. "The plate is twice as thick. And my resolve is stronger than the trunk of a thousand year old tree. Shoot me."

The engineer lined up her shot and closed her eyes right as she pulled the trigger. There was a loud ringing sound and when she opened her eyes, she saw Vanguard's head knocked back, her gaze skyward.

"V-Vanguard…?"

The sylvari's head slowly tilted forward and her eyes trained on Zhaiah's once again. The location the bullet had struck was scratched, but there was no dent. "I am fine, and I am right." She removed the helmet and looked it over intently. "This will do." She turned her head and looked at the awestruck armorer standing a few paces away. "How much for this helm?"

"A- I- Uh- Just twelve gold, ma'am," he replied, still slack jawed. "Did you need anything else?"

Vanguard put the helmet back on and pulled her coin purse from the satchel at her side. "Yes. Direction. I wish to purchase a torch." She handed the man his payment and then tucked the purse away.

"A torch? I have several-"

"Torches for battle."

"Oh. Roderick has some, he's just a few minutes walk down the way. Roderick's Fine Krytan Arms. Tell him I sent you. And that you survived a bullet to the head without so much as glassy eyes." He dropped the payment into his register and handed her a bundle of polishing cloth and oils. "On the house. For the uh, show you gave everyone."

She had indeed given everyone a show. For the second time today even, though this one had onlookers petrified, instead of enthralled. Some anyway. A few norn looked on with approving grins, and one even shouted, " _That's_ how you test steel!"

Vanguard beckoned for Zhaiah to follow her and made her way through the crowd with ease as it parted to give her a wide berth. As the two made their way to Roderick's store, Zhaiah looked up at her friend and asked, "Was that really necessary? I'm always willing to help with experiments, Vanguard, but that seemed downright dangerous. In a truly lethal kind of way."

"The less savory of those gremlins that share your race have done worse for less. You've strapped a device that is attempting to harness the very essence of fickle fate to your back. You have golems that could explode if struck in just the right way through sheer accident wandering about your capitol. Do not insult me by acting as if the favor you did me was any less dangerous. You are merely uncomfortable with such a direct, nakedly dangerous act." Vanguard stopped and looked up at the sign that hung above them. Roderick's Fine Krytan Arms. "This is the location." She turned and headed inside.

Zhaiah hurried after her, intoning, "Yes, but-" She stopped and bit her lip. The sylvari had a point. "Alright, fine, I won't argue it, but- wait, why are we here?"

"A torch."

"Why?"

"To pick my teeth, Zhaiah. What do you think a torch is used for?"

"For fighting. But it's just kinda weird to see you wanting to replace your shield," she said.

"My shield isn't going anywhere. It will remain on my back for whenever the need arises," explained Vanguard. She approached the shopkeeper. "Roderick, yes? The armorer from down the Promenade sent me here. Suggested I ask you for a torch. And to inform you that I have been shot in the head while wearing one of his helmets." She removed her helm and set it down on the table.

Roderick was a short, fat man with a black beard so thick it likely was the reason he was now bald. A blacksmith's apron was stretched taut over his belly, but his similarly massive forearms and biceps strained against the stained cloth shirt he wore. "And he didn't mention anything about you being pretty!" said the blacksmith, smiling. Vanguard's face set into a scowl immediately. "Or intimidating. Yeah, a torch, let me just…"

He turned to one of the racks nearby and picked through the torches that hung from it. "Were you hoping for something nice looking? Embellished maybe? Any materials you've got a fancy for?"

"I want it to work. No matter what. Short of being submerged entirely in water, sand, dirt or mud. If I'm caught in a heavy downpour in Maguuma or lost on the side of a mountain in Shiverpeak, I would like that torch. To. Not. Fail."

"So looks are not at all a consideration."

"It could be a slab of pig iron fresh from the eyesore the charr call their capitol."

Which appeared to be exactly what Roderick offered Vanguard. "It's rough, unpolished, heavier than a pregnant dolyak, and I'm pretty sure it can double as a mace. But it won't fail on you." He handed the torch to her.

The sylvari hefted the solid iron hulk and swung it about a few times, then pointed the business end of it towards Zhaiah and said, "If you could please light it." The engineer obliged. Vanguard held the torch up and inspected the flame, then swung the weapon about several times and traced the path of the embers it left in its wake. "I am heading to Shiverpeaks soon. If this torch cannot stand a winter storm, much less light snow, expect me." She fixed her eyes on Roderick. "I will expect a refund. How much?"

The blacksmith's eyes were wide and he swallowed hard before saying, "Uh. Six gold."

Vanguard paid him and then extinguished the torch and hung it from a leather loop on her side. She picked up her helmet, tucked it under her arm and strode out. "We should see if we can find the others, Zhaiah. Doubtless they have involved themselves in something stupid, unsavory or outright illegal. My thanks, Roderick. Remember what I said." She strode out of the store without a second glance back.

Zhaiah gave the blacksmith a sheepish grin. "She's always like that, I promise," she said, then hurried after her friend. When she caught up to the sylvari outside, she said, "You know, you could do without scaring everyone you run across."

"How others see me is not my concern. I know who I am, how I am, and what I am. Do you not?"

"Of course I do, but did you really have to basically _threaten_ the shopkeep?"

"One should not sell inferior products to hapless customers."

"I don't disagree, but that was still a bit harsh. That's all I'm saying."

"It is my gold, Zhaiah," said Vanguard, stopping now to turn to look down at the asura. "I do not want to see my gold wasted. I laid my life down for it. I will not see it - and therefore my life - squandered on inferior steel."

"I get you. I wouldn't want to have that happen to me either." She sighed and looked about. "Hey, there's a stand over there that's selling caramel apples. Let's go buy some and sit down under a tree, I have a question."

Five minutes later, their apples in tow and the shade of a tree draping them, Zhaiah looked pensively at her apple. She had taken only one bite. It was delicious, but the question she had in mind was ruining her appetite. Vanguard, on the other hand, had eaten nearly half of her apple already.

"Vanguard?"

The warrior grunted her acknowledgment and took another bite of apple.

"Do you have a problem with Dunn and I? With how we are?"

There was a long silence punctuated only with the sound of the sylvari chewing before finally, Vanguard said, "No. Do as you please. I would expect you to extend the same respect to me." The finality of her tone made it very clear to Zhaiah that she was not lying.

"Alright, then why are you so… angry?" asked Zhaiah, looking up at her friend's face.

The sylvari stopped mid-bite and her expression turned pensive. Traces of worry, even fear crossed it. The knitting of her brow, the shifting of her eyes and the tension in her jaw - Zhaiah had struck a nerve.

The asura was terrified. She opened her mouth to say something - anything to defuse the situation, but instead, the sylvari spoke in a soft and meek tone. It was the most feminine Vanguard had ever sounded around Zhaiah. Her voice was usually like a clump of thorns scraping against dry wood. Now she sounded like the rustle of new leaves in a spring thaw. It threw the asura off completely. "I am not angry." She gave the asura a smile filled with self-loathing. "I am simply a coward."

Taken aback, Zhaiah reached out and gently touched her friend's shoulder. "A coward?"

"Yes. Chasing bravery." She patted the torch at her side and let out a short, humorless laugh. "I'll find it. Eventually. So do not worry." At this, Vanguard returned to her apple, and when she had finished, said in her usual, rough tone, "Did Arcavia tell us where she was staying?"

Zhaiah's appetite had clearly not returned, as she wrapped her apple up in the paper it had come in and shook her head. "No, but I bet if-" She paused and squinted in the distance. "Is that Dunn?"

Vanguard stood up and peered through the crowd. "Yes. Perhaps he knows."

"Worth asking, if not we can just go back to the plaza and hope that they'll look for us there. Let's go."

The two set off to catch up to their slowly retreating friend, but all the while, Zhaiah's thoughts remained focused on Vanguard's words. _A coward?_

* * *

Dunn had indeed known where Arcavia was staying, and so he, Zhaiah and Vanguard now sat at a table in the tavern of the inn. The necromancer nursed a tall mug of spiced cider and watched Zhaiah fiddle about with the interior of her matrix in silence. Vanguard clutched an enormous flagon of mead and instead seemed focused on counting the knots in the wood of the table. The silence between the three had settled around them like an odd funk. It was clear that something was bothering Vanguard, and by proxy, bothering Zhaiah. And Dunn was certain that it was clear to them that something was bothering him.

He looked around the largely empty tavern. It was warmly lit in here, and the quiet murmurs of conversation made the place feel almost sleepy. The smell of roasting meats and baking pastry awakened a growl in his stomach and so, hoping to clear the awkward air, he said, "Anyone hungry? I told Arcavia and Romog to wait up for me for dinner but I figure they won't be too upset if we start on something small."

Zhaiah clicked several panels on her matrix closed and then looked at Dunn to shrug. "I guess so. What did you want? I still have some of my caramel apple but that's hardly dinner."

"Dunno. Vanguard? Any suggestions?" he asked, looking to the sylvari.

She took a swig from her flagon and then said, "Meat pies."

"Alright. Any specific-"

"Anything."

Dunn nodded and got up then made his way to the barkeeper. "Excuse me?" he said, waving at the charr for attention.

The barkeeper glanced at the necromancer and then closed the ledger he was reviewing. "What can I get for you?" he asked.

"Do you have any meat pies by any chance?" he asked.

The charr huffed. "Of course I do. What kind of tavern do you take this for? I've got a few filled with a beef and mutton blend from this morning. Spiced with salt, whole peppercorn, cinnamon, mustard seed and garlic. If you'd rather have something hot, a river drake and venison blend should be out soon. It's a saucier pie - made it with peppercorn, butter, cream, garlic, chopped shallots and sea salt."

Dunn's stomach growled up at him. "The second option sounds good. How big are they?"

The charr looked him up and down and then snorted. "You'll have enough with one." His eyes flicked to his table. "That sylvari and asura are with you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Two should be plenty."

"I've also got another two charr showing up soon."

The barkeep's ears perked up at this and he laughed. "Then you'll probably want six. Lucky for you I've got around two dozen going. They'll be out soon."

"Thanks," said Dunn. "How much?"

"Thirty six silver."

The necromancer looked over his shoulder and called out, "Hey, uh, Zhaiah? Could you come over here and uh-"

The barkeep began to laugh and boomed, "Thinking with your stomach and not your wallet, eh?" Dunn gave him an embarrassed grin and then turned to see the asura trotting up to him, clutching a small purse filled with coins.

"That's got some of your payment for the job you did. Or did you want all of it?" she asked.

"Nah, I'm shit with money. Hold onto the rest until I need it." He paid the barkeep and returned to his table with her. The two sat down, and Zhaiah sidled up next to him and dropped her head on his shoulder. Beneath the table he felt her hand grope for his and lace her fingers awkwardly between his.

"Something's eatin' you too, huh?" she whispered.

"I gotta work on being so easy to read," said Dunn, laughing. He shook his head. "Not really eating me, just a bit preoccupied. It's fine, I'll explain when Romog and Arcavia get here." It might as well have been a command, as the door to the tavern opened and revealed Romog looking incredibly relieved to be done with all of the shopping his wife made him do.

The couple made their way over to the table and as Romog sat heavily down beside Vanguard, he let out a sigh of relief. "Praise be to fucking Melandru, we're done" he said, looking at Dunn. Beside him, Arcavia rolled her eyes.

"Praising the human gods? You that glad it's over?" said Dunn, grinning.

"No, but the human had to close up early to pray to Melandru, so that's who I'm fucking thanking for saving me."

To his left, Arcavia punched him in the shoulder and laughed. "Just as good, I suppose, I was getting a bit peckish."

"You'll be glad to learn I've already placed an order, then," said Dunn.

"What'd you get?" asked Romog.

"Meat pies. River drake and stag. Spiced with uh… A lot of stuff. It sounded really good."

The sniper grinned. "Everything sounds good when you're hungry. I'll eat an asura's whole roasted ear if you starve me long enough."

Zhaiah raised her arms in bewilderment. "I'm right here, Romog, thanks."

The charr laughed in earnest and then turned to shout at the barkeep. "Two flagons."

The barkeep shrugged. "Of what?" he called back.

"Anything, as long as it's cold and foamy." Romog turned his attention back to his friends. "What did you get done while I was out suffering?"

"You go first, Vanguard," said Dunn, taking a swig out of his drink.

The sylvari let out an irritated sigh. "I purchased a torch and a new helm. The helm is well made. Likely norn and then embellished and finished by a human. The torch resembles a torn off piece of the Black Citadel. Hopefully it proves as resilient." She took a drink from her flagon and then eyed Dunn. "That is all."

"Oh. That was, uh, way faster than I expected," said the necromancer.

Romog chuckled. "It's Vanguard. What did you expect? And where's your abomination?"

"Well, I didn't trade out Clarissa, as you can see." He gestured to the sword on his back. "I sent Dort up to the room I booked. Figured he didn't need to ruin anyone's meal with his squelching."

"So what did you go do?" asked Arcavia.

"Got some new runes worked into my armor. Should prove helpful out in the field if we get into a scrap. And…" He furrowed his brow. "Can we stop by Bloodtide Coast? I have to meet someone there."

Vanguard raised her eyebrows in unison with Romog. "Why?" she asked.

"I have to get something appraised," said Dunn. He patted his breast pocket. "It shouldn't take long. I don't expect to get anything useful out of it, anyway."

"Is it related to why you skipped out so suddenly earlier?" asked Romog. His mouth was set in a thin, if fanged, frown.

"It might be." He felt Zhaiah's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head. "I'll know for certain if we go."

"Alright," said Romog, nodding.

The food arrived. The conversation died and gave way to sounds of eating, but before he tucked in, Dunn threw Romog a meaningful look that said exactly one thing.

"Thanks."

* * *

Dunn reclined against the headboard of the bed in silence, his legs tucked under the covers. A cool breeze rolled in from the open window, and the lack of noise coming from the outside world made it clear that it was rather late. In the corner of the room he saw Zhaiah pull her arm out of her matrix, close it up and then stretch.

She hopped off the chair and stripped down to her underwear as she walked to the bed, then let her hair loose before climbing in. She sidled up to Dunn and threw her arms around his midsection and rested her head on his chest and sighed. "Matrix has been pretty stable thus far. It's responding to changes in ambient magic without much issue, which is more than could be said for some of the earlier iterations. Most of them didn't take too kindly to being taken much further than Soren Draa."

"Think this one will be a successful prototype?" asked Dunn to the crown of the asura's head.

"Who knows?" she said, shrugging. "The place luck occupies in the Eternal Alchemy is almost inscrutable. I might as well be groping about in the Mists. Honestly, I just might be." She looked up at Dunn, her chin resting on his pectoral and gave him a small frown.

"What? Oh no, don't tell me-" he said.

"What was Romog talking about at dinner?" she asked.

Dunn sighed. "You know-" He frowned and fell silent. After a long pause, he finally said, reluctantly, "Alright. You know how you invited me to sleep in your lab?"

The asura nodded.

"Well I'm asking you to keep something secret from the others. They'll learn in due time. For now, you get-"

"Partner privileges?"

"Sure, we'll call it that."

"Got your vote of confidence then."

Dunn smiled. "Yeah, I think so." He looked up and out the window and gathered his thoughts. "Alright. Aracavia asked about my parents. My "house" and what not. Romog was curious too, because, well, he didn't know my full name."

"How did he never-"

"I don't know. He might have assumed I was raised by asura, honestly. Dunn fits right in, doesn't it?"

"Eh, close I guess. But you'd act very differently if you were raised by asura."

"I guess you have a point. Anyway: I skipped out on them pretty abruptly. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not really fond of talking about it."

"Why?"

"Sore spot. More than a sore spot. It's like a wound that'll scab over but doesn't actually heal. I haven't done anything to really get it to heal, but our detour just might help it start. Talking about it is just picking at it."

"All this from your full name? Guess it's a good thing we never bothered with them," said Zhaiah, furrowing her brow. "So what, do you not know it?"

"No, I do. Vincent Dunn _was_ my full name, but I've signed every last bit of official documentation - what little of it I've had to sign anyway - with just Dunn for years now. People figure I'm just some poor Krytan that went off and was raised by some curious asura who saw a chance to run the experiment known as 'raising a human in asuran culture.' But that wasn't the case," explained Dunn. Zhaiah nodded, and gestured for him to continue.

The necromancer took a deep breath, "Fourteen years old, and Vincent Sr. skips out on my mother and I. Leaves us here, in Divinity's Reach, with just one single breadcrumb. A fucking gold coin. Not even a useful gold coin, the kind that could maybe get us bread and necessities. No, some flattened, inscribed, weirdly-shaped, clearly hand-cast gold coin. Turns out, it's a doubloon.

"Mom was sentimental about it and wanted to keep it, figured maybe it was left behind for a reason. Hoped maybe _we_ were left behind for a reason. And she died hoping, three months later. Hope that went right into the hole with her."

The engineer gave Dunn a reassuring squeeze. He put a hand to her back and rubbed it absently.

"I wasn't about to spend my teenage years trying to hack it as an orphan in the Reach. I'm not one to just be sitting around the Promenade with my hand outstretched and praying someone's got Lyssa on the mind and thinking they should do a good deed. I went to Queensdale and turned to a life of petty crime. There are plenty of roving gangs of bandits to join, so I just had to cut my teeth on stealing bread and wine for a bit.

"Or so I thought. They ran me out of Shaemoor in _days_. Claypool in _a_ day. And as you might expect, going from a disappearing dad to mourning my mom to a lost and lonely soul in just a few months does a great job of sucking hope that the sun is even worth seeing tomorrow out of a kid. But, with no knife to stick in my throat and being less than interested in jumping off a small cliff and only breaking my legs instead of my neck, I figured - hey, the Tamini are always willing to send you off to Grenth."

Zhaiah sat up in bed and put her hands to his chest, looking up at him in alarm. "Dunn," she pleaded, misty-eyed. A pang of guilt jumped in his stomach.

He pulled her into an embrace. "It's fine. As you can see, I didn't die. Instead, I found a hermit necromancer in the woods who trained me for a bit before he croaked. And the day he did, I left his dinky hut, ready to get moving to anywhere that wasn't woods filled with angry centaurs. I was eighteen and stupid at the time. Had lots of grandiose ideas like, 'Yeah, necromancy is for me. Yeah, I can become an adventurer. I can do whatever I want, because Vincent Dunn Jr. is dead, and raised in his place is… just Dunn. Novice reaper.' So yeah, I was still a stupid kid. With a shitty fucking dad. Don't even know if he's alive, but hey, maybe the guy that appraises this doubloon can tell me something, you know?"

Zhaiah wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

With a grin, Dunn turned his head and gave her a peck on the nose. "So that's why I'm just Dunn. It's a name with a shitty story, and not even an interesting one. But I take everything I can make my own and I hold the fuck onto it." At this, he grabbed hold of the asura and rolled over onto his side, earning him a squeak of surprise.

"So, there you go. Happy?" he asked, looking down at the mess Zhaiah's hair had become.

The asura wriggled out of his grip enough to see him face-to-face. "Yes. Thank you." She kissed him. "For trusting me."

Dunn grinned. "Likewise."

She dropped her head into his chest once more and said, muffled, "Good night."

With a chuckle, he gestured at Dortmund to extinguish the lamp in the room and replied, "Yeah. Now it looks like it just might be."


End file.
